Final Hunt
by B.A. Gemar
Summary: Every hundred years they come and every hundred years we hunt them. They taught us all that we know, and we use it against them in the name of the hunt and honor. We have done this for thousands of years, and now we are just one; the last. Dtai'kai'-dte sa-de nau'gkon dtain'aun bpi-de we have heard them say; 'the fight begun would not end until the end.' How honest those words are.
1. Payas Leitjin-de

**02/02/14 **some terms and names originally written before this date were changed to be correct translations. Sorry for any confusion.

Special thanks to Miss Leah "Fire Redhead" Wood for the use of one of her characters.

* * *

"We are hunters," she said as I watched her prepare. My mother, the beautiful huntress, I remember her clearly, but I had never known her name; she had only ever been 'mother' to me, "we have hunted them for a long time, every hundred years, and now the time has again come."

She lowered her hand, her claws pinched small metal circles between them, lifted them from the mat that she knelt on, and attached them to her tresses. Three each; one at the base of her skull, one in the middle, and one on the end of each strand. They chimed softly as one ornament would touch another with the movements my mother made. Her reverent preparations for the hunt were slow and methodical, just as she made her speech.

"Your ancestor was the first to hunt them," she lifted a knife from the grass mat, passing it slowly over her skin, colored orange by the light that flickered between us, dancing off of the many scars all over her body. I could hear where the blade glided against her skin, a soft raspy hiss; a hungry weapon, "he is the reason that we continue to hunt them, to earn honor from them."

She spoke quietly as she worked. I listened quietly, my knees drawn against my chest, skin glistening with the heat of the night. Every word she spoke was truth, every word was gospel, and every word was honor. I clung to every word, eager, though I did not show it.

She recanted the tale of my ancestor, Kamabagunda, the first of us to witness the fall of the _Danda_ _Kerekuru_, the Hunting Star. He was a hunter, a great warrior of the clan, one of the best, one that all looked up to and strove to be. He had left the village the morning after, to see the star, see where it had landed; his instincts had told him something was coming.

Through the jungle of our home he ran. Such skill he had that he was unimpeded by the trees and roots that tried to pull him back, to drag him back home, as if the very jungle wished to send him back to where it was safe. He made it to where the star had fallen by the next sun rise. To say that was when he saw the _Paya_ would be incorrect, for he had been concealed from his eyes, not yet worthy. A shimmer against the trees, that was all, and then it drew first blood. The hunt lasted only a day, and at the end, the _Paya_ revealed itself to Kamabagunda, found him worthy, before my ancestor made the final blow.

The _Danda_ _Kerekuru_ returned to the sky with the death of its master, and the body of the _Paya_ lay on the ground. My ancestor was unsure of what had happened, but he did know that he was far away from home, he was hungry, and meat was meat. He consumed the flesh and blood of the _Paya_ and it had granted my ancestor long life. He succeeded as chief of the tribe after all the others had perished from age, and he was a good leader.

When the _Danda_ _Kerekuru_ fell again, he brought others on the _Kure Tua_, and though some fell, they were victorious, and others feasted and were granted long life. Every _Kure Tua_ after we learned from them the ways of honor, and of the path. We made ourselves in their image. They were the _Payas_, our gods from the stars, who had chosen us as worthy prey, and the only thing we could do to return the honor, was to make the hunt worthwhile. If we were victorious, we were rewarded; the blood and flesh of the _Payas_ would grant us the life of a hundred years again and again. If we failed, then time would return to us with a vengeance, and make our bodies old and weak. We were seldom victorious, and there would not be enough flesh to pass among all the tribe, so only the most worthy, the hunters and their families would be allowed to taste the _Payas_' blessing, dooming the other clansmen to short lives, and they would become resentful.

Eventually, we separated from the tribe who could not accept us, who were jealous of our longevity, but we grew great as a clan all our own.

We were not really so different from the other tribes. We worked the land, the men hunted, and the women raised the children with no knowledge at all of the rituals of the hunt. It wasn't until a _Paya_ had broken the code of honor and attacked the village, killing many of the women, children and elders, before it could be brought down, that a change had occurred; a change that was not shared by our neighbors. The men, after the vengeful _Paya_ had decimated our numbers, saw fit to teach the women the ways of the hunt, the ways to bring down the _Payas_, their weaknesses, and the tricks that they fell for, just in case such an attack occurred again. But while the women would learn the ways of the hunt, they were not allowed to attend when the _Danda Kerekuru_ fell. Even though it was knowledge to the clan that the _Payas_ would let their women hunt, it was something that the tribe could never accept.

It proved to be a wise choice though, giving the knowledge to the women. Only a few centuries ago, the _Danda Kerekuru_ had come, and the men left to perform and bring honor and the precious life blood to the clan. It was a long time they were gone, and then, after several days, the earth shook, and the trees groaned far away in the jungle. The women witnessed the _Danda Kerekuru_ return to the sky, so they knew that the _Kure Tua_ was over, but the men did not return for days. Eventually, they went in search, and found that, where the hunt had ended, the earth had been destroyed; a large crater, that would have taken several minutes to run from one side to the other, was all that was left.

The women had the knowledge to pass down to the children so that the _Kure Tua_ could continue, and they themselves performed on the next hunt out of necessity, even though time had returned to their bodies and they were old.

It marked the decline of our tribe, and the world around us would not show us mercy for our loss.

The Azande, our neighboring tribe to the north, who had come from the same long-lost people we had risen from, was formed soon after our loss and grew in strength as we grew weaker. They swept through the land and conquered, eventually moving into our land and we crossed spears. While we had the gifts of the _Payas_ to help in defending our lands, our already small numbers continued to fall in battle; few as we were, losing even just three people was a hard blow. The numbers on their side were very heavy, however, and eventually a treaty was made between our tribes. They would leave us alone, and we would leave them alone.

The world around us was changing. People were coming from the north, invaders. They went through the tribes like a plague, and took something from them that should never be stolen; culture. They preached about a one true God, and would poison the ears of all who would listen. We saw the tribes around us fall to their words, or fall to their guns. But we would not listen. We knew our gods, we were chosen by them, honored, hunted. We shunned these invaders from the north, and when we would not listen, they waged war against us. More of us were lost, but they soon learned the same lesson as the Azande and left us alone.

That is not to say we learned nothing from them in turn. When they were not bringing their God down to preach, they brought knowledge. The world was vast, larger than we had ever imagined. There were people everywhere in the world, all different. We would trade for books, and we learned to read. But nothing could shake us from our faith. The final trial was in the forming of the land into a country. The men who put themselves in charge, men of the northern invaders, sought to hold dominance over all people, even us few remaining. These men were lead not by any men truly, but by monsters. The age of suffering had begun. We saw that the world around us was corrupted. The earth greedily drank up the blood of the massacred and seeded more greed in the people who were born of it. We had seen what simple weapons like those of the invaders could bring out in the hearts of even our neighbors. If things such as the gifts of the _Payas_ ever fell into their hands, the world would be destroyed.

So, our wise leader, Biraragowe, my father, had searched the books, talked to the invaders and our neighbors, and sent us on a hunt of another kind. I was not yet born, and the country was still not yet formed. It was easy to find what he sought, a hole in the ground, with shiny stones. Diamonds they were called in the invaders' tongue, and we harvested many. With them, we secured our land from those who would eventually be in control.

It had been a risk, learning that these stones were on our land could have spurned these greedy men into trying to slaughter us all to claim the hole and all the stones for themselves. But these men had servants, men of tribes, who told them stories. They knew of us, and how dangerous we were. They were appeased with the offering, and granted our lands to be ours, a treaty that lasted through many different rulers, especially when the country fell back into the hands of those who it belonged to. With this stone currency, we had purchased only one other thing: a place to hide the gifts of the _Payas_, away from all who would use them for evil. It was, unfortunately, our chain to this world and these people. It needed to be maintained, replaced if it was broken, improved. We did this begrudgingly for it was necessary. The final trial was far from over, the trial would never be over, but we were finally left alone.

Every time the world tried to interfere, to break us and bring us to our knees, we persevered. We refused to be shaken; our lands were ours, our people ruled by no men, and our faith secured. No matter what, through all of the trials, we would always answer the falling of the _Danda Kerekuru_ and hunt.

"Tonight, the _Danda_ _Kerekuru_ has fallen," she put down the knife, not a single drop of blood had been drawn from the blade, the whole of her skin now bare save for her brow and tresses, "tomorrow, when the sun rises, the _Kure Tua_ will begin. You will join me, but only to watch and to learn," finally she cups her hand in a bowl of water, and washes her skin clean, washing away this world to purify herself for the hunt.

"Your father fell to them one-hundred years ago, dying with honor with his brothers. Now we are the last, my child," her eyes turned to me, the light reflecting off of them as they looked into mine, eyes full of pride, not just her own but for me as well, "the last of the _Kure Iradandaanya_."

She called me over, and for the rest of the short hours of darkness, prepared me for the hunt. She braided my hair into tresses like hers. No ornaments, I had not yet earned them. She shaved my skin as skillfully as she had her own, and then washed my limbs. She recited the steps in mantra, to forever be burned in my memory until they were not ritual, but instinct. Observe the _Danda Kerekuru_, clean the body, honor the dead, prepare your weapon, eat your fill, begin the hunt, honor the fallen, consume the flesh, conceal the gifts, return to mortality.

I knew these things, had been raised on these teachings since birth, but always they were repeated so that they would not be forgotten. So close were they to being lost forever; the final two drops of blood in the clan. But we were not afraid. _She_ was not afraid. The time just before the rising sun was spent in silent feasting. Then, when golden light bore down on the earth, my mother rose to greet it, spear in hand. Never was there anyone I saw with as much strength for another hundred years.

With the rising of the sun, she lifted her spear and stepped out into that light. She looked back, making sure I was following behind. I remember so clearly, the thrum of insects, the call of birds, movement in the trees as the animals began to rise from their slumber. But we were silent. The sun warmed our skins like it would unmoving stones on the earth.

The _Kure Tua_ had begun, and together we headed off into the jungle.


	2. Western Invaders

"Jesus _Christ_ it's hot."

"I heard you the first time Chuck," he was right though, it was hot, the hottest summer in the Democratic Republic of Congo on record. Well, as far as anyone knew; the tribals weren't exactly good on keeping records, just legends. But that was fine, that was what they were looking for: legends.

The men were being driven in a jeep, painted khaki, something they had since coming in from the Savannah. They had been following this vague trail all the way from Egypt, but the closer they got to the equator, the stronger the trail was getting. There were two of them, not including their Azande guide that they had picked up and their driver who had a gun. The gun would have been unsettling save for two reasons: the first being that war never really ended in this country, and it was better to have one and not need it, than need it and not have one. The second reason was simple: they had both seen far more frightening things than a man with a gun.

He was a young man, but not one some upstart general would call a whipper-snapper. Approaching his forties and it was showing just a little bit in the grey of his blond hair that was sticking to the back of his neck. The man next to him, Chuck, was younger than he was, dark hair, dark eyes, one of those faces; the kind of guy who could commit a murder, and would fit the witness description of forty percent of Americans.

He wiped his brow for the fifteenth time, if his jacket wasn't black, the stains would have been showing. Worry for his wardrobe was interrupted by the passing of a sign. A human skull was posted on the same pike above a tree that had carved in it a warning. The driver was kind enough to translate, "go back, trespassers will be killed."

"God I hope this lead is worth this," Chuck said, unscrewing the cap from his warm water bottle and taking a single drink from it. It felt like they had been driving for hours through this jungle, and the farther they went, the thicker it got. Finally, the driver stopped.

"You have to go the rest of the way on foot," he said. Their guide jumped from the back of the jeep to the ground. The two of them were a little less adventurous, opening their doors and stepping out. Their nice shiny shoes would never be the same.

"It's this way," said their guide in heavily accented English. He waited for them to follow after shutting their doors.

"It's gotta be in the damn jungle doesn't it?" Chuck said, stepping in something and grimacing, wiping the bottom of his shoe on an upraised tree root.

"They like the heat remember?" their guide looked back at them, moving better through the trees without shoes than they were, each time assuring them that it was in the direction he was leading them.

He was maybe eight or ten; they insisted that they use a young boy. The Azande tribe they hired him from said he would be safer that way. They had not meant either of them. The two men weren't feeling entirely safe anymore. The man with the gun was still in the jeep several yards back, and getting further away with each step.

"Think this will pan out?" asked Chuck, gingerly stepping over the rotting corpse of a tree. He looked at the receding figure of their guide as he jogged through the trees, only to reappear again to make sure they hadn't fallen, or worse, "slow down Niumba-ha-! Whatever," the boy was easy to spot at least; he had red shorts, and a striped white shirt.

"I think this has a better chance than the last time," he said, remembering the last wild goose chase they had gone on in Peru. They should have known that it was a farce once the trail led into the mountains. Cold and dry. A dead end if ever there was one.

"Here, here!" called their guide, and they stepped out of the jungle and into quite an amazing site. It was farmland, all dead, and huts, all in ruin, except one, the largest one. It was well maintained, and the little garden-sized farm next to it was lush with crops that were not yet ripe. A pleasant, savory smell was coming from the hut, and a bit of smoke could be see wafting away from the dried leaves that covered it. The Azande boy jogged up to it, saying something in his native tongue into the hut and stood by the door, looking in, then back, but not going further.

The two men eventually caught up, looking at the hut. It looked like your typical tribal hut, but it was larger than the others they passed, the sides had decorated mats circling all around, painted a dark color with bright red symbols painted on them; symbols constructed of small dashes.

They exchanged looks, before stepping up. The Azande boy hopped inside, vanishing into the darkness. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust. The inside was dark, the 'windows' of the hut only let a little light in through mesh-like grass weavings. A very small fire was the first discernible amount of color, and also the source of the smell.

Beyond the fire sat the reason they came here, cutting a small piece of meat from the roasting beast, whose small, red tusked skull lay nearby, and passing it through thick lips. Sharp teeth bit down causing blood to come from the pink flesh before the lips closed. Dark eyes looked up at them with the same passiveness as a lion observes a passing herd of zebra when it's not hungry.

There was no doubt that this was what they had come for.

Their guide spoke to the tribal, who looked over at the boy, the whites of the eyes a stark sudden flash, before returning to look at the men, whose skin was so pale they were lighter in color than the palm of her hand.

Yes, her, that much was obvious. She wore practically nothing, certainly not on her torso. A ring of necklaces that spiraled up her neck rather than rested on her shoulders, and one that lay on her chest made of small skulls, like birds, rodents and snakes. That was all that she had for a top. Chuck gave one look to his companion, before he began to aimlessly wander around the large circular room, which caught the attention of their host, her eyes following him with the slow movement of her head. The only movement as her body had gone completely still.

"Thank you for letting us into your home," said the other, distracting her from his companion. Her eyes flashed to the Azande boy again as the young man began to translate. She didn't look away from him until he was done, moving her gaze back to the man as he continued, "my name's Agent Cameron Richards, I'm with the FBI, from America. My companion is Agent Charles Nelson, and our guide is called Niumbahawiri," again the woman's eyes flashed to the boy as he translated, and she seemed to lose interest, slicing off another piece of meat, pinching it between her filed nails and eating it.

Richard's eyes moved along her for a moment. She had those same kinds of scars that a lot of the tribals seemed fond of. On her abdomen was something like a flower, or a sun, or a star. Something that had spiraling rays revolving around her naval. It was the most decorative of the lot of them. The others were simple and symmetrical; vertical cuts along her collarbone, ridges under her eyes, rows of dots down her shoulders . The only asymmetrical ones were two parallel, diagonal lines that encompassed her left eye.

She didn't respond, in fact she didn't look up at the two of them, and ignored Chuck as he walked behind her, admiring some bit of decoration by one of the windows. Some more skulls set on a stack of books, these of larger animals, predators. He could read titles like _The Heart of Darkness_ and _The Most Dangerous Game_ from between the sharp teeth. He was obvious that she perceived that he was no threat to her.

"It took quite a while to find you. Lovely village, where are all the others?"

The woman did not look at Niumbahawiri as he translated, but cut a piece of meat from her meal and extended it in offering to him. The boy reached for it, not hesitating as she began to speak. The dialect was very similar, as they had been told it was, but it included some clicking similar to the khoisan languages spoken in the south.

After Niumbahawiri put the meat to his mouth and tore a piece off he looked to Richards, "she says, they are all killed."

The agents both looked at the young woman, piecing things together bit by bit but didn't say anything for now.

"What killed them?"

The boy translated and the young woman kept ignoring them for the most part, continuing her meal. She did speak though, after tearing some meat from her newly cut piece, speaking over it, and then took another bite, and Richards looked over at their guide again.

"She says that they all died in the jungle," he said, also returning to his piece of meat.

"Yes but what killed them?"

Niumbahawiri translated again, and the woman's eyes flashed up to the man, then back to her meat. She said just a few simple words, "she doesn't know."

Richards held in a sigh and moved forward, bending down so that he was eye level with her, one knee of his nice pants in the dirt. Her eyes flashed up to him, looking directly into his as he smiled sympathetically. She looked back down to her hands that worked the strips of meat, so rare it still bled on her fingers. It made Richards lose any appetite he had worked up on the way here.

"That makes you the last then," he said, sounding sorry but she didn't look at him, "we saw the symbols on your hut, where did they come from?"

After a moment of silence, their host said just a few words again, "she says, 'in the jungle,'" Richards reached into his jacket and pulled out a small manila envelope, he pinched the metal clips to allow the flap to open and took out a handful of pictures, "can you tell me if any of these look familiar?" he flipped through them, grabbing the first five pictures and laying them down next to her. They were simple pictures, mostly of jungle, but with things that didn't belong: slash marks on stone, burned holes through wood, glowing green liquid on the leaves of some ferns, a large crater of scorched trees and ash in the middle of a jungle.

She glanced over at them while she chewed, tilting her head in an eerily familiar fashion that caused chills to go up the agent's spine. Never had he felt that they were so close. Looking at this woman was like looking at one of _them._

Some of her tresses fell over her shoulder, but after regarding them for a moment, she sat back upright and took another bite of meat, looking over at Niumbahawiri. Richards also glanced at the boy, wondering if maybe some things were getting lost in translation. Their guide looked at him in turn, fingers wet from the meat.

"What is this?" Chuck suddenly spoke up and gathered the attention of all in the hut. He had nearly completed a full circle of the area. It had been easy to do, there were no rooms, just the large round space that served a simple purpose. He was indicating to a large skull with thick white bones, but more impressively five sets of ivory tusks.

Niumbahawiri had not translated what Chuck said at first, until the woman looked over at him waiting for it. The boy quickly translated, sounding anxious and the woman answered again, a single word, "it's a hippopotamus skull."

"Did you kill it?"

"She did."

Richards knew that his companion was playing nice to rid himself of suspicion. What Chuck lacked in individuality he made up for in a very specific skill, one imperative to their line of work. Richards helped by selecting a few more pictures, "very impressive, you're a skilled hunter," strange, too. Every tribe he had ever passed through thought little more of their women than as property. Never in a million years, mostly because that much time _had_ passed for some of those tribes he was sure, would they have allowed a woman to hold a weapon, let alone hunt. But perhaps her skill was driven by necessity, and the lack of anyone to stop her.

"Could you tell me if any of these bring something to mind?" he asked, setting the other pictures on top of the first ones. She glanced at them again, but seemed even less interested in them than the first ones. Richards could hear his teeth pressing together as he took steady breaths and looked at the four pictures he had laid down. These did, indeed, seem less impressive to those who did not know what to look for. Rational minds would excuse the distorted parts of the images as poor picture-taking, or simply smudged film during the developing process.

This was getting nowhere quickly; he was going to have to take the risk, "what about these?" he laid down the last pictures. She gave them the same apathetic glance, but this time did a double take with interest, her tresses smacking against her shoulders. Richard's eyes lit up. She kept chewing after a second, wiping her fingers on the skin of her ribs before reaching over and moving the pictures around. The agent almost didn't dare to breathe. Then, she just looked away and cut off another small piece of meat.

Richards felt like he had been blue-balled. His fists clenched. Chuck walked over and pulled gently on Richards' shoulder, leaning him up and back to his feet, "calm down, don't lose your head. She's toying with us, just like that tribe in the Amazon," he spoke quietly, even though she couldn't understand them, "they didn't want to tell us anything either, remember?"

"She definitely knows something," Richards said on the same level, his voice more even than he felt. He messed with one of his cuffs, straightening it out as it stuck uncomfortably against his skin. The young woman looked over at the pictures again, dark eyes scanning them over, moving another picture over and freezing for a moment, lifting a picture. She looked it over.

"This is the closest we've gotten in years. We'll just have to keep working on her, soften her up. Maybe we can give her things, bribe her, pay her off. She'll show us what she knows."

"What is this?" came a heavily accented and unfamiliar voice. Both agents looked over at the woman, holding the picture so that it faced them; a dark picture, blurry, with an even darker, nearly black silhouette that her pointed nail was against. She still had food in her mouth, chewing slowly, but her eyes were intense, looking at the two agents.

"You speak English?" Richards asked, hoping that it was well-placed mimicry instead.

"And read," she said, leaning back into an upright position still holding the picture, "O W L F. That doesn't spell FBI," she tossed the picture with the others; pictures of small figures perched in trees, standing on the corners of tall buildings, of one greenish blur fighting a blackish blur, all only slightly better in quality than pictures of sasquatch or the Loch Ness monster.

Richards was silent for a moment, turning and facing her. He was caught unawares, and was stumbling with how to proceed, but she didn't give him a chance, "I am Diwizama. I am the last of the _Kure Iradandaanya_, which makes me chief of my tribe, and while you are in my lands, you will show me the proper respect."

Her voice was tense, but even, she sat straight, head held high and erect, looking at them with narrowed eyes, and brow raised, "I want nothing of yours. Nothing you can offer me will 'soften me up,' not with you coming in here expecting me to be ignorant and insulting me."

Niumbahawiri stepped away to the wall, now useless. He remained quiet and his head was down. He put his hands behind his back between him and the dried mud, and simply waited.

"You come to me and show me these things," she said, flicking her hand over the pictures, "why?"

Richards swallowed once and stepped forward again kneeling in the dirt once more to be eye-level once again, but his eyes were hard now, "we're looking for something."

The young woman gave him a hard glare back, "you'll find nothing here," she said, "this is Africa, nothing but heat and blood."

"Well what we're looking for is very fond of both those things," Richards could feel the sweat rolling down his brown to his cheek. It itched to be wiped away, but he didn't take his eyes off of their hostess.

"Most men do," she said with finality and looked back to her fire. Her muscles suddenly tensed when Richard's skin touched hers, grabbing her wrist, keeping her from taking her knife in her hand. Her dark eyes flashed in warning, and the instinct that he had grabbed a tiger by the tail kicked in. He didn't let go.

"We're not asking for much, Diwizama," he hissed, garnering a gnashing of white teeth from the young woman, "just take us to the place, wherever it is that they land, or landed. Where it was they were, where you found the symbols, that's all."

"You could have asked me for anything else, anywhere else, where the hunting is good, where the gorillas like to nest, where the diamond mine my ancestors dug was. All those things I could show you and you would not have to make many threats. But what you're looking for doesn't exist," she twisted her wrist between his fingers, feeling the pull of her skin against his, "you are hunting ghosts."

Richards' knuckles turned white. Before he could open his mouth, he felt a sudden sharp pain and jerked back, cursing loudly. He held his wrist, looking at the dark red running from the serrated crescent wound on the side of his hand. Hazel eyes flashed beneath a furrowed brow to look at the woman, the hard line between her lips the same color as the growing spot beneath the agent's fingertips. Richards then remembered what the Azande had warned him about: these people were ritualistic cannibals.

"Get out," she hissed, slowly rising, the lion now on the prowl, knife in hand, "you are no longer welcome here. Trespassers will be killed."

Chuck helped Richards to his feet and they began to make a retreat out of the hut, the cold voice behind them pricking their necks, "best get healed. Infection is a slower and more painful killer than any predator in the Congo," Chuck glanced back for just a split second, enough to see her throw a handful of the photographs into her fire.

The two stopped half-way through the village, Niumbahawiri having followed after them with a moment's hesitation, and easily had passed them up to take them back out of the jungle. Chuck looked at the wound on Richards' hand and made a discouraging noise, "really tried to take a chunk out of you didn't she?" he tried to joke, but the worry in his voice was apparent. He took a kerchief out of his pocket and began tying it around his companion's palm.

"That bitch," growled the older man, slowly beginning to feel the pain keenly as his heartbeat slowed back to normal, "all that for nothing!"

"Don't worry about it," said the younger man, tying the knot and jerking a grunt from his partner. Something in his voice made Richards' silence heavy, "come on, we really should get that looked at quickly."

The two men turned to their waiting guide, striding out briskly to keep up with the boy, leaving the skeletons of the village behind them.


	3. The Star Falls

Not everything sleeps during the night. Far from it. Nearly as many animals lived in the heat of the darkness as those who lived under the sun. The constant clicking of insects that sang to one another in the leaves of the trees, the rustle of dead foliage under soft paws, the cracking of branches as a monkey's weight was too much for the dry limbs. It was a chorus of life if one listened closely enough, and to add to the music, a hollow rhythm thrummed through the trees.

Calloused hands beat on the soft leather of a drum, skin colored orange by a larger fire in the middle of the village. The beat was quick, erratic; it moved her. She rocked back and forth, elongated head bobbing up and down as she swayed. The dirt around her remained undisturbed, but she could feel the ghosts dance before her. She sang out to them, the spirits. They moved and jumped, held hands and moved together before releasing each other and ducking. They raised high into the air, feet leaving the ground, flying before coming back down to the earth.

She did this often, played for the honored fallen, gave music for all of them to dance to. Then, when the music was in her soul, she would join, dance to the drum, leap into the air, turn duck and jump again. But this night, she only played, patted and beat the skin of the drum. If anything had heard the music, they left it be. The life in the forest around her was quiet, listening before moving on. Only when they felt safe enough away did they begin making their own music again, singing, crying, calling.

The air was so hot that even her skin was beading with sweat; she who was a native of this land. But that did not stop the animals from living out their purposes, and it wouldn't stop her. Faster and faster her hands hit the small drum between her crossed legs, the meaning of the words she sang were lost to the trees and the air, the fire danced ignorant of it all. Only the ghosts heard, and understood. It was for them anyway.

The music stopped. Ears rang with the sudden silence and the ghosts went still. Dark eyes were looking up. The stars were bright, so many of them that the sky was not black at all. The moon was missing just a small part of it, just barely rising over the tops of the trees. She looked at its face; the pale light so bright the soil around her was colored white. The moon and the fire fought for dominance over the large clearing. The moon was stronger, painting all of the abandoned huts with its color, letting the jealous fire color only the dirt surrounding it.

She lifted a hand, raising it slowly, fingers spread, palm facing the moon in greeting. She tilted her head, dark shadows splayed out against her face. The moon, resting between two fingers, shined directly into her left eye. The light, so powerful, moved through her claws, lighting them up; small white flames on the tips of her fingers. This was not the moon she was named after. Diwizama; the red moon happened only so often, and unpredictably so.

She watched the moon creep up her fingers like a fat caterpillar, then lowered her hand back to the drum, making a soft hollow noise. She began to turn her attention to the much warmer light of the fire, when a light caught her eye. She looked back up, eyes wide. She stood slowly, setting the drum to the side. Shoulders squared back, head raised, face against the stars. One was falling out of the sky, a yellow star. She watched it, feeling her heart race. It streaked across the sky, then it arched, moved and weaved. Slithering almost like a snake. It passed overhead and she spun, following it as it moved, vanishing over the tops of the trees on the other side of the village.

Everything around her was silent, even the crackling of the fire seemed to have quieted in reverence. She was still for only a moment longer. Then, she turned, kicking the dirt around her into the fire, smothering and killing it. The moon shone on the fire's smoky last breath, curling into the sky, and glinted off of the metal rings around her neck as she ran to her hut. Her hands were shaking as she dug her fingers into the ground, packed hard from years of her feet trampling over it. She grunted and moved, grabbing one of her garden tools. She began to stab the earth, breaking it and softening it. She dug out a square, cleared the dirt off of the area and revealed a small red light, dully illuminating black metal.

She easily coaxed a fire from the small hearth in the hut, allowing her to see the rectangular pad with the numbers. She scolded herself for her hastiness, but her body still shuddered as she pressed the numbers: 2 0 1 8. The black metal clicked and she turned then pulled on the silver handle, raising a small door open. Small amounts of dirt fell down into the flickering darkness, soon followed by Diwizama.

Her knees bent as her feet hit the ground. The light flickered a moment longer before it slowly faded to a constant, illuminating brightness. All around her, cold emotionless masks stared, some with red eyes, some with grey. The metal did not reflect the light very well, but the weapons placed under each mask did. So, too, did the polished skulls.

She closed the distance between her knee and the ground, bowing to the individuals lined all along the walls of the wide room. Each section of the wall was set with a mask, armor, weapons and skulls, and she showed respect to each and every one, ending with one to her right. She paused a moment, calming her breathing and her heart. The excitement had left her face, but not her eyes as she stood and approached this final warrior. A single human skull was set below the weapons, and she touched it gingerly.

She went immediately to work. A trip back up saw the return of a bowl of water, a grass mat, a leather pouch and a knife. She laid the mat in the center of the room and knelt on it, the knife on one side, and the bowl on the other. She removed her jewelry and took the ornaments out of her tresses, setting them down before her knees. She undid every braid, the coarse hair keeping the curved shape of each tress. She pulled her fingers through them, and then painfully began to braid them again.

Each tress was tight, pulling at her skin with every twist and tug of her fingers. She braided several rows like this, taking much time, making sure each was tight. She knotted the end of the final braid. The looseness of her scalp that she had been feeling for a while was now gone. She bent and lifted the first of the ornaments by her knees. Each tress got three ornaments, one near the scalp, one in the center of the tress, one near the end. These chimed against each other as she moved them to the side to work on another.

She then lifted the knife, the blade gleaming white in the artificial light of the room. She ran the blade first along her left arm, beginning with her knuckles and up to her shoulder. She was slow and careful, especially over the raised scars over her body. The blade moved against her chest, then her abdomen. She shaved down her legs and feet, even her toes. Then she lifted the blade and placed it over her shoulder. This was the most dangerous part, and previously, members of her tribe would have helped the other hunters clean the parts of their bodies that they could not see.

She had no one though. The many human skulls that belonged to the individuals along the walls could not help her now. She felt the blade run slowly against the back of her neck. She could acutely hear the hissing of the blade as it cleaned the skin. She moved the blade back and then forth, lowering the blade down to her shoulders, using her free hand to pull her elbow to reach across her back. She was careful here as well. Long scars comprised of short dashes ran parallel with her spine down the entire length of her back.

When the arm could reach no further, she bent forward and bent the arm behind her at her side to get the lower part of the back. Finally she passed the blade to her left hand and cleaned her right arm. She ran the blade then along her neck and jawline, along her chin and cheeks, and finally along her brow, finishing with the space between her eyes. She set the knife down, completely clean.

She dipped her hand into the water and began to wash her skin clean.

The warriors around her watched, unmoving. She knew many things now, separating myth and legend from fact. In just one-hundred years the world had advanced so quickly it was blinding to those who could only watch. Science had destroyed the magic and wonder of the world around for those that would listen, and could not escape the facts. Diwizama was glad that the horrors of reality had occurred long after everyone else was gone. She knew now that the _Payas_ were no more gods than she was an ape. They were visitors from a planet far beyond the stars, not within the system that circled her sun, for the other planets there were uninhabitable.

That they could be killed meant they were mortal, and she had noticed the difference in the skulls of the _Payas. S_he had come to recognize those marked with age in the amount of tusks and barbs that were there.

Yes, they were mortal, and the _Danda Kerekuru_ was the vessel in which they travelled the stars to arrive on Earth for the hunt, not a star itself. The _Payas_ were not unlike a Britain or American, boarding a plane to come and hunt the dangerous animals of Africa.

But this knowledge had changed nothing in Diwizama. She was the last of the _Kure Iradandaanya_, and with all the honored fallen as her witnesses, she would bring honor in this hunt, even if it meant her death.

She washed away the sweat, the dirt, and the loose hairs until her skin was smooth and clean. She bowed low on her mat, to the first fallen _Paya_.

"Honored fallen," she said, then stood and moved around the room. She cleaned away the dust and polished every last bit of armor. To each one, she said their name, or the name given to them by the clan. Each stroke of her wet hand was slow and reverent, warm against the cold metal and bone. She showed the same amount of respect and care to each one, ending with the last, and letting water drops glitter onto the human skull set below named 'mother.' Once she was finished, she set the bowl aside and stepped back to the center of the room.

Her heart beat hard and steady, gazing around at the ancestors and the _Payas_.

"Honored fallen, I go now to bring honor in the _Kure Tua_, I chose for my weapon, the _ba_ of my first kill," she turned to the wall on her right, taking the short metal cylinder from above the lonely skull and turned, presenting it around to the warriors, "it brought me honor in my first hunt, and may it bring me honor in this, perhaps my last," she knelt again, placing back on her jewelry and loincloth. Into the remainder of the water she put handfuls of white powder from the leather pouch until the water was a thick paste. She painted a mask on her face. This was, once again, something that would have been done by another member of the clan, one not participating in the _Kure Tua_ as it dirtied the hands that were just cleaned.

Her fingers brushed against the now-dry skin, leaving white trails along her lips, under her eyes, and on her brow she painted a symbol: a downward-facing crescent, with three sharp lines underneath it.

She brushed her fingers against the mat until they were clean, and lifted her spear. One final time she observed and acknowledged the warriors. She then rose up the ladder, and the light shut off with the soft slam of the door.

White claws armed the safe once more, then she lifted and strapped on something that didn't belong in this world of hers. It looked much like a watch, a thick black strip of nylon wrapped tight around her left wrist, but the square face had no way of telling the time. The only thing there was a small circular lens, barely the size of a pea. She pressed a button on the watch until the lens blinked a bright red only once with a high-pitched _beep_, then left her in the orange glow of the fire.

It was lucky she had hunted earlier, the small boar was already cooked, and she did not mind eating the meat cold. In utter silence she cut pieces of meat from the carcass and feasted on what was left. The silence was meant to allow her to mentally prepare. She was alone on this hunt, it would be very difficult, but she had primed for this all her life. She felt anxious, but she was still and calm. The ritual had worked out the shaking of her body, and the goose bumps had receded.

She thought about changes in the jungle that had occurred in the last century. A portion of the southern lands had been given to the government to appease them and discourage them from taking it all from her. She would avoid those, and lead the _Paya_ away from them. It was nothing but mines now.

The trees near the east were probably big enough now to hold her weight on their branches. They were new and young trees after a fire had swept through there not long after the last hunt. It was also the area of her lands that she knew the least due to the new growth. Everywhere else she could maneuver through sleepwalking. Her eyes burned from the lack of rest in the previous night, but she was wide awake. There was no room for weariness in her body or mind.

The sun came up quickly soon after her meal, perhaps just as eager as she for the day. As the sky lit up, and the sound of the diurnal animals began to stir, she lifted her foot-long _ba_ in her hand and stepped outside the hut. She stood, feeling the world around her began to heat back up. She listened to the whine of insects and rustling of leaves. The golden sun peeked over the trees and slowly began to light the entire village, falling on her and warming her skin. She closed her eyes and inhaled the air, taking in the familiar scents, and the one unfamiliar one.

Dark eyes opened to look into the darkness of the forest. All her muscles were taught. She gripped the spear tightly. She was waiting for some unseen command, some leave to go, whatever it was; a shift in the earth, a subtle change in the air, the movement of the sun or elongating of her shadow. She held her breath for a moment, then suddenly moved, jogging towards the trees. With a rustle, she was consumed by it.

The _Kure Tua_ had now begun, and left alone in the village, the ghosts whispered: _dtai'kai'-dte sa-de nau'gkon dtain'aun bpi-de_.


	4. These, Our Gods

Nature had a way of knowing when something doesn't belong, when danger is near. It always goes quiet. Nothing moves. All is still. Only breath remains. The breath of the jungle is hot; it steams from the plants and the ground, making the air thick. The sun filters through the heavy foliage in beams of gold, and lighting up the sparse patches of earth that it strives to reach. A shadow passes over them for but a second, and then is gone. And slowly, the forest dares to move again.

Bare feet don't even touch the ground. The rough bark of old wood gives the traction needed to fly through the jungle. The ground here is too soft and moist, and would leave tracks. This can be used to the advantage, intentionally running down a path, leaving prints in the soil, then up to the trees to track back and go another way. But that would be for later.

Hands grab, the muscles in the arm bulge as the body is lifted to a higher branch, a new level, and through the branches she continues. The _Danda Kerekuru_ had gone in this direction, but that did not mean that it was where it landed. It was a graceful thing, and it could move as easily as any serpent, and just as quietly. It could have turned in any direction, and have landed miles away from the direction that she was heading in.

But she wasn't looking for the star. No, that was forbidden. It was not meant for human eyes. She was looking for _them_, the _Paya._ It had an adequate amount of time to cover much ground in the time it had taken her to perform the rituals. It could have been anywhere by now, even at her village if it wanted, her clan had learned that the hard way.

But if she was to 'see' the hunter who had chosen her this century, and know who her opponent was, the best place to start would be near where _Danda Kerekuru_ had landed.

She had been going through the jungle for hours, and had found no signs of the _Paya_. It could be very possible that they were chasing each other around in circles, which meant that this could take quite a while, and their meeting could be purely accidental.

The metal of her _ba_ scraped against the wood of a tree as she caught a branch and swung from it to another below her. She paused to catch her breath, feeling the muscles in her thighs twitch. She placed her hands on the branch and curled, making herself smaller. Slowly she gazed around and listened, holding the small cylinder at an angle that if she needed to. She would be ready to fight at a moment's notice.

She heard a snap and her head jerked, looking over and around, the sun caught on a flash of color. She flattened herself against the branch, making herself as narrow as it was and waited, eyes fixated on where the sound had come from. She held her breath as she saw a shine of gold and black bounce over a fallen branch. Muscles rippling under fur as it landed and began padding silently down the path. The leopard slowed to a stop, one paw barely lifted from the ground. Its ears turned, golden eyes wide as its pink nose quivered. She could see the sharp white teeth as the feline began panting, tasting the air as much as smelling it.

The leopard turned and moved off the trail it was following, moving to a tree and climbing up it easily, crawling up onto the lower branches and perching on one, looking around for anything amiss. It froze when it noticed her. At first it did nothing, it could not recognize the strange creature on the branch. Deciding that it didn't want her there, it crouched, ears pulled back as the lips pulled away from the teeth. It growled and hissed a warning, and Diwizama slowly eased up and turned to face it.

It wasn't there to attack her; it was just surprised by her being there. She would avoid conflict by letting it have the trees here. Without turning her back to it, as that would only invite an attack, she eased back, foot extending to feel for a branch and slid down to it. The leopard watched her with interest, ears still back, hackles still raised, but it made no more threats.

Once she was far enough away that coming after her would be too much work for the feline, she turned, her back safe at this distance, and continued on her path. There would be many more dangers in this forest besides her and the _Paya_, and some dangers were deceptive. The small tse-tse fly was a relentless killer, biting a human could give the human the sleeping sickness, and the whole species kills hundreds of thousands of people every year. Just an insect a third the size of a fingernail. Just one of many dangers here in the jungle, and she'd have to watch for all of them. But so would the_ Paya._

Several miles away from her village now, Diwizama took a real rest. Her chest burned, but still she took precautions, lifting herself to the higher branches until she sat in the crook of one, stretching her body out along the branch to be as hidden as possible. She concentrated on her breathing, slowly inhaling and exhaling to make it steady. She held her _ba_ loosely in one hand, looking over it fondly, watching the light slide along the surface as she tilted it back and forth.

A memory flowed within this weapon; hot metal, tasting the blood of its master, a dark night, a gleaming skull.

She sighed and rested the _ba_ against the wood, closing her eyes to ease their burn. She kept so still, that the insects and smaller animals felt safe enough to begin moving again. The din of the forest was like a lullaby, and she felt her body get heavy against the branch. She wouldn't sleep, that would be dangerous, but she got close: a blank mind, slow steady breathing. The buzz of an insect moved very near her ear, investigating the smell of her, then it landed on her neck. She felt its very light feet move along to her shoulder blade, then to her back. It was drinking the sweat off of her skin, attracted to the salt, but then it flew away, probably looking for something sweeter.

Suddenly, everything went quiet again. Diwizama's eyes opened up instantly and her muscles tensed. She moved her head slowly back and forth, looking for the danger. There! Her white nails dug into the branch she was on, and she paid more care to how she was lying on top of it. Her eyes focused on a lower branch, several feet away. The leaves on the branch had settled quickly and it was still for a moment, then the branches and trees moved and shifted, a distorted blurry image, like things behind turbulent water.

Her breath caught in her throat and she concentrated on keeping her heartbeat even. She watched the large spirit move along the branch and perch where it was still strong enough to hold its weight and it froze again. A soft, rattling click emanated from its direction, and she could see where the head was, shifting slowly as it scanned the area.

The _Paya_ was hidden from her, but she could still make out some features. It was large, as most of them were, and this one was male, the outline revealing a flatter chest in profile. She could count two of the gun weapons on his shoulders, the wristblades were retracted, and she could not see a spear like her own _ba_ on his back. Other things she could not look for; thrown weapons, other retracted weapons, and the hand guns that the _Paya_ carried with them would be completely hidden by the cloak unless they turned just the right way, or they used them.

The finer details that she could make out gave her a little more information about the _Paya_. The crest had many well-pronounced ridges that she could make out even from where she was, and the dreads were very long. It was an older _Paya_, not the oldest her clan had ever encountered, but that meant little. His age meant more experience, more danger.

She didn't move, even though she had learned all that she was going to here. Moving would only alert him instantly to where she was, barely hidden by the girth of the branch. She would wait for him to move on. She had just as much patience as he did.

Breathing out slowly, she set a slow pattern to her breaths to be as quiet as possible; long drawn-out intakes of as little air as she could pass through her lips, and then out the same way. The _Paya _was obviously in no hurry, and she lost track of how long she had been there. She held her breath as he moved, ready to leave herself once he was out of sight. He stood relocated to the main part of the tree and rested a hand against it. He was still again and Diwizama went back to her breathing technique, wondering what he was doing. They were usually not this passive, especially not on a hunt.

But it gave her a chance to see. She observed the blurry outline of the _Paya_, not to learn anything about him, but to admire. Though she could not see entirely, there stood the reason for her to live, the reason for everything. She felt herself relaxing. Not that she saw him as any less dangerous, but that a sense of utter calm came over her, unwittingly, as she watched him.

Then a blur suddenly moved beneath her. It jumped easily from branch to branch until it joined the _Paya_ on his perch. Diwizama's eyes were wide, looking upon the other cloaked figure. _Two Payas_. She felt her heart race, looking on the second figure. Her mind raced and instincts clashed. She kept herself from moving, even though the urge to escape the dangerous area was strong. Part of her mind told her to study it, but most of it was on staying alive.

The two _Payas_ clicked to one another, standing apart. The newer one looked around, then crouched on the branch and looked at the ground. The initial panic subsided slowly and she forced herself to look. Another male, and a younger _Paya_, his crest was not so ridged. He was a little smaller than the other, but no less large. He had two guns as well, pulled back in their resting position, and surprisingly, sported two wristblades. That was all she could see. It was time to move. It would be a risk, but so was staying put with two pairs of eyes looking out for her.

She slowly moved, painstakingly so. Her arms retracted from above her to beneath her, pushing herself up from the branch. The bite of the wood against her knees was ignored as she slipped down. She wasn't going to run, that would be foolish, but she wanted the larger bulk of the tree's trunk between her and them, to hide her heat. Slowly she lowered herself down the branch, feeling it scrape against her stomach and chest. She lifted her foot, catching her destination and pulled her hips to the side, twisting around the trunk until she finally let go of the branch. She pressed her back to the wood, letting out a silent breath.

The _Payas_ were still talking to each other. Now better hidden, she listened. She understood most of what they said. Through the masks of the honored fallen, her clan had learned much about the _Payas_, including their different languages.

It seemed the elder one wanted for them to split up, not too far away from each other, but apart to cover more ground. The younger one was hesitant with this plan, he himself not being familiar with this terrain or their prey. He wanted to stay as a pair, hunting together. Diwizama looked around for routes to take once the two of them finished deciding what they were going to do. The older one was insisting they split up, calling the other one young, and… ignorant. At least that was what the word sounded like.

There was silence after that for a moment. The world around them was quiet. Still she waited, she knew they hadn't left. As silent as they were, movement still would make noise. Their dreads would smack their skin, metal armor would slide against the net they wore. But they were quiet, and so she had to be even more so. If she could hear herself, they could hear her easily.

Then the clicking started up again, it was the elder _Paya_, he was laying down his path, telling the other where he would be going. The younger one solemnly acknowledged, and they made plans to meet again when night fell. Then she heard a sound, a fizzing and crackling. She knew what it meant, and the curiosity was painful to ignore. She slowly eased her body against the tree, moving to the side, leaning, using one leg as a counter balance.

Slowly, the edge of the tree gave way to the branch that the _Payas_ were on. But then she stopped. She had not earned the right to look upon them. She eased back to her position, hearing the movement of items and then, the sound again.

The sounds she had been waiting for finally reached her ears. First one, then the other moved, crossing across the branches. The soft rustle of leaves and creak of wood under the weight of the _Payas _faded easily away.

She waited, listened, until she could hear them no more, and then waited even longer. The very moment the insects began to come back to life, she was off. Through the branches, she headed south, perpendicular to where the _Payas _had left. She needed to move quickly, get in the right position, before the other _Paya_ would be there.

The younger one had been right; the two of them shouldn't have split up. Diwizama would not have been so bold against two of them at once, and likely would have gone down easily. Now the odds were more in her favor, not entirely, but more.


	5. First Blood

The path of humans is easy to follow, always easy to follow. Trails run through the jungles cut through with machete and the ground so walked on, that nothing grew. There were many of these, and to Diwizama, it was the mark of trespassers. But she ignored them. Something far more important was occurring now than a few disrespectful humans. It was one of these trails that the elder _Paya_ had said he would be near, where he was going to scout, and look for tracks. Her tracks.

She wasn't going to traverse the ground any more than they were. She had been raised in these trees, she could move for hours without once touching the soil unless she wanted to.

Leaping across one of the human trails, she landed on the branch of a very old tree. A hole had been carved into it for a nest long ago by animals, and the years simply saw to it that the hole be widened and stretched open until it was a gaping maw in the still-living tree. She reached her hand into it, feeling the pool of water inside with the palm of her hand. She cupped her hand and smelled it. The water was fresh, and she drank a few handfuls before lifting up and sliding into the hole, feet first. The water was cool, and went to the middle of her calves.

She crouched down in the hole until she was completely obscured and let out a breath. This was the tree the elder _Paya _had used as a landmark for where he would go. She just needed to wait. She crossed her arms around herself, feeling the cool metal of her spear against the side of her arm. The sounds of the forest were accentuated within the hollow, making listening for the _Paya_ easier.

Several minutes passed by, then more. It turned into a half hour of watching the shadows change and wondering; why were there two? They had come in larger groups before, hunting parties for when the clan was large and strong, but surely they had to know she couldn't breed and raise that many hunters in the time between hunts. It made no sense to her. What she did know, was that her chances of victory were made very slim. She would have to work doubly hard to earn another century of life.

The birds continued to sing after an hour had passed by. She was lulled again, the wood made the sounds engulf her, embrace her, and she began to doze. She forced herself to stay awake, though it was all very wearing on her. She was ashamed. Her mother had run for hours and hours without rest when she participated in the _Kure Tua_, after a day of toil and taking care of a child. She would do her proud and bring honor to her memory. So she stayed awake, listening, fighting her heavy eyelids until she yielded. They burned; it would be alright to close them, just for a while.

She jerked awake suddenly, causing a splash around her. The light outside the hole had changed, and the flesh of her fingers was wrinkled. Despite everything she had fallen asleep. Cursing herself she searched the water for her _ba_, fishing it out from near her ankle. Her body was stiff from sleeping in that curled position, and her knees were aching to be unbent.

Keeping her displeasure in her throat, she began to move for the hole when she heard something, or more accurately, nothing. The birds had stopped singing, and the insects were still. She held her breath and eased up slightly out of the water, just so that her eyes were over the rounded edge. Even knowing what she should be looking for, she saw nothing. That didn't mean that it was safe.

Still, if the _Paya_ knew that she was here, staying in the hole was going to be far more dangerous than if she left. But she had to plan. She was certain that he was nearby, but was unsure of where. She pondered for a bit, ignoring the discomfort of her body. Finally, with a plan in mind, she eased back up, this time standing up out of the hole and slowly crawled down.

Her toes dug into the soft soil as she hit the path and stretched out all the aches. She looked down and flexed them against the earth, the same color as her skin. She then moved quickly, following the trail west. She moved past over-hanging foliage without thinking about it, keeping her feet planted firmly on the earth, hurrying, but not running. Heavy breathing would be easy for him to hear.

Despite being several yards away from the tree, the forest around her was dead silent. She could feel it, but she needed to get to an open area and make ready if she was going to have a chance. She would not set any traps. No, traps were discouraged by the _Paya_, and while it robbed the clan of that much of a chance at victory, it was agreed that it was not a practice they would indulge in.

The trail finally opened up. Not very much, just a couple yards across or so all around, but it would be enough. She stepped forward, having hopefully left a good enough trail to be followed and looked around slowly. She lifted a hand and wiped her cheek, smearing some of the white off her skin. She had already sweated off much of the white markings on her face. The old _Kure Iradandaanya_ used to wear masks like the _Payas_, but the masks restricted the vision so much that they opted to use masks in ceremony only, and to paint on masks for the _Kure Tua_. No mask ever lasted as long as the hunt.

She stepped forward again, still listening for where the life was in the jungle, and heard a rustling in the trees above her. She didn't look up, one of them was above her. She didn't know which one. She breathed easily, taking another step forward, slowly crouching in the foliage for some cover, still moving forward. She turned the _ba_ in her hand and stopped. She froze, muscles bunched, ready, waiting, holding her breath. Nothing happened, nothing moved. She looked around again, and then took a step forward.

The sound of rustling leaves when she had brushed against none was her only warning. With a jerk the _ba_ in her hand extended to a full-length spear, one end stabbing deep into the earth as an anchor and the other shot up above her shoulder. She felt the heat before she heard the roar, a hot liquid poured over her shoulder as she rolled out from beneath a heavy shadow and she turned. The glowing green blood of the _Paya_ was spread out against the leaves and along the ground, and pooling around where the _ba_ was protruding from his transparent chest.

But he was still standing. Roaring again the shimmer grabbed the spear and wrenched it from his chest, throwing it at her in the same fluid motion. She dropped to the ground and hopped forward, the _ba_ sailing over her and hitting a tree with a heavy sound. A heavy rattle came from the _Paya_ and she heard the sharp sound of his wristblades extending. But what more, a crackle, and like rippling water under rain he became visible to her. This one had found her worthy of that much.

It was the elder _Paya_, his crest large and spiked, long dreads grey at the ends. He was green in color, darker and speckled on the outer parts of his flesh, but lighter on his belly, reminding her of a crocodile.

She did not have much time to observe as the _Paya_ came for her. She was without a weapon. With the strength he had thrown her _ba_ it would take more than just a second with her power to remove it from the wood. So she moved out of the way, bounding to the side and hearing his blades slice cleanly through the air above her. The moment she touched the ground she stood, looking for an exit before throwing her shoulder back, feeling his blades cut down across her collarbone. She rolled her body away from his blades, taking quick steps back for distance as he made to grab her with his other hand.

His claws grabbed onto her bone necklace and he tried to wrench her forward with it, but the chord was too weak for his strength and snapped easily, allowing her to duck and roll. Somersaulting past his leg, her hand flashed out, contacting his rough skin, drawing her own claws against it, though it did little. Once behind him, she stood, crouched, his dagger in her hand. He whipped around, long dreads flaring out and smacking against his back. He moved forward with his blades, and she moved the knife to counter. The knife was knocked away with enough force to make her arm numb, but she held on to it, ready to parry his blows. After the second strike her arm tingled, trying to keep the feeling in it. The third strike he attempted she ducked under and pushed off the balls of her feet, shooting past him, the blade in her hand held to the side, digging into his flesh.

Roaring again at the new wound, he turned to face her, disoriented for a second when she was not immediately visible, looking around and then up, but soon finding her as she leapt from the foliage from right underneath him. She had used his own body heat to disguise hers. She dug the blade straight up his abdomen, then put distance between them again and whirled to face him, but stopped. He wasn't moving, one hand was wrapped around his stomach, the other was moving away from his neck. She had unintentionally cut his throat open vertically with her last strike, when her intent had only been to maybe gut him. It was a lucky strike.

The elder _Paya_ released his stomach, showing that her original plan hadn't worked anyway, as the cut along his stomach was shallow, but he was bleeding profusely from his throat. The blood was cascading down his front, staining his own skull necklace, his armor and his skin in bright green glow. His stained hand moved to his wrist, and his fingers curled, allowing for one claw to touch the metal pad there. Ice went through Diwizama's veins and she reacted, jerking her hand and throwing the blade, cutting into the device. The bright red symbols vanished.

The elder let out a gurgling roar, looking at her and charging, despite his mortal wound. She moved to dodge but was grabbed. She flew through the air, hitting the ground hard. Before she could react her ankle was grabbed and she was tossed again as easily as a small stone. Her shoulder hit the ground and she pushed herself up, her hand grabbing a stone and wrenching it from the earth, turning to face him. She hesitated, then relaxed. He was on his knees, one hand around his neck, the other digging into the earth. His breathing was wet; she could hear bubbles forcing their way up his throat to allow air out, and then the choking noises trying to draw breath in. Blood was dripping from behind his mask. The _Paya_ cocked his head, looking up at her through the grey coverings over his eyes, trying in vain to stem the flow of his blood. She knelt down to one knee and he tried to grab for her, but she was out of reach, one hand balled into a fist across her chest.

She felt her throat tighten as she swallowed, _"__Yin'tekai,"_ she said, having to think on her words. The _Paya_'s labored breaths were becoming shallow, he hand back to his throat, _"honor-able,"_ she tried again, _"death. Master, thank you. Rest."_

The elder stared at her for a few more moments wheezing, his shoulders heaving with his labor, as if he would stand, and fight with his dying breath. She believed he would, if the very act of breathing was not a battle in of itself for him. Then, in an instant, he rattled a final breath, his muscles loosened, and he fell forward into his own blood.

Diwizama lowered her hand from her chest, standing up and moving to the elder. She bent touching his shoulder gently, feeling the texture of his skin before she pushed, rolling him over onto his back. She looked down at the magnificent body of the _Paya_. Aged as he was, not a bit of him could be considered weak or feeble. He was decorated with many scars, which she traced with reverence, wondering at the long story his body alone could tell. His mask was beautiful, the face of it square where the mouth was, but polished smooth for the crest, forking at the top and curving slightly back. A symbol was burned into the polished surface.

"Honored fallen," she said, kneeling by him and moving his claws to rest at his sides, "in life I knew not your name, but allow me to call you Mbia so that I may honor you in prayer," Mbia, the mountain. She ran her hand tenderly along his mask, from his crest to his chin, but did not remove it. She had not earned that honor. She would leave it on until she needed to remove it to clean his skull. She did, however, bend down to his chest and put her lips to the pool of blood in his throat.

She had earned another century of life, if she could survive the other _Paya_.

It was a shame she did not have the time to honor him properly. It would all have to wait until the _Kure Tua_ was finished. For now, she followed the customs and began to disarm him. He had on him two of the throwing disks, small balls made of a clay-like material that she knew caused electric shock upon impact, and the weapons she had previously observed. These loose items she took with her, removing his belt and retying it onto her, leaving the trophy belt alone.

The wristblades she also left. They were too big for her to wear and the kit on his back had to be abandoned. She didn't have the time or energy to move him to remove it. She took the rock she had and made sure that the bomb was destroyed for certain. Dropping the stone once the task was done she found and retrieved the knife, and struggled with the spear in the tree. Of all the things, she was hesitant to leave this behind. The longer it took to remove, the more anxious she got. She expected at any moment for the other _Paya_ to appear through the trees, and she was not ready to face him yet.

A gasp escaped her when the _ba_ came out unexpectedly, but she retracted it back to its shorter size and then moved into the trees. She heard a crash behind her and instantly slid up behind a tree, making herself narrow against the trunk, feeling her heart leaping into her throat. She heard clicking behind her, first quick and wary, then slow and deep.

She saw a red light appear, passing through the trees, back, and then forth again, up and down. She held her breath, trying to plot out the best way of escape and seeing that the only routes would expose her to the open. Her only true option was to climb the tree and get to high ground, but the noise that would be made from that might alert him to her position.

Then, the beam turned off, and behind her she heard more clicking and movement. There was heavy sound, then the sound of metal against metal. The sound of foliage being walked through faded away from her. Her lungs screamed at her to breathe, but she dared not, not while the younger _Paya_ was so close. Only when she guessed he was far away from the sounds he was making, did she let out a breath. She looked past the tree and found that the _Paya_ had left with Mbia's body, leaving only blood on the ground. Its glow slowly fading.

She reached up and rubbed the side of her hand against her lips. She looked down at where her own dark blood mixed with the beautiful green of Mbia's. She took a moment to look at the wound on her chest that dissected some of her previous scars before she began to move through the forest. She began to look around, specifically at the trees she was passing by until she found what she needed.

A wounded tree, already bleeding. She collected the sap on her fingers and began to rub it into the wounds. It stopped the bleeding, but that was not the intent. The sap would ensure that the scar would not only be permanent, but pronounced, raised up above her skin. Normally she would have done this with ash, as ash was cleaner and less prone to infection. But she didn't have the time to go back to her village, and this was worth the risk. There was one other_ Paya_ out there, and the sun was getting low.


	6. Sharing the Hunting Grounds

She crouched low, into the leaves, shadows playing over her form. She stayed still, eyes watching the movement of the bushes only a few feet in front of her. Her shoulders arched, creating a valley in her back, hands pressed flat against the ground, chest barely above it. She turned her body gracefully and quietly, following the movement of the brush as it travelled to her left. Wide eyes watched the movement, following it with her head. Her hand curled around the metal spear beneath it. She froze when the movement stopped, then moved when it did.

Her throat tightened; she made a hoarse grunting noise through her nose. The movement stopped, then shifted and turned. She moved her spear, holding it out in front of her, waiting, listening as the sound grew closer. She could see now, the long grasses parting before her as it came closer. Then, the moment came. She put the spear up, striking flesh and extending it.

A horrible cry rang through the forest and around her the bushes all came to life. Her hand gripped tightly the shaft of her _ba_ as her prey thrashed about. All around her small forms charged in the same direction, abandoning their wounded companion. Heavy beats flattening the soil in retreat.

She stood, gaining leverage against the animal she had struck, putting her foot on it to keep it still in its death throes. Then, finally, it went still and she retracted the spear. She moved her foot away from the boar, looking at his beautiful pelt of red, white and black. She knelt down beside it, running her hand along the coarse hair, rubbing a thumb along the smooth hooves. She took the knife from the belt and started to clean her kill. The river hogs of the area were not the biggest that she could find, but it would do for an evening meal for a single person, and then some.

Once she had the head removed she used some of the cord she had taken from Mbia and raised it up so that it hung. She skinned it and set the pelt aside, then began to remove the muscle from the bone, setting the pieces of meat on the inside of the pelt. She would need to make a temporary camp to treat the skin and cook the meat. The kill was already starting to attract flies, and she knew that more dangerous things would soon come, drawn by the scent of blood.

She was done quickly, an expert at this since she was a child. She began wrapping the meat up and turned her attention to the carcass. She lowered it from the tree and it hit the ground with a heavy sound. She untied the cord from its ankles and used the cord to tie up the pelt. She would have liked to keep all of it, but she was too far from the village.

She heard a sound and she froze, looking around and crouching instinctively, until her eyes caught the spotted pelt of the leopard. Seemed she was sharing territory with this one rather than it simply passing through. It was crouched low, pale yellow eyes wide, still as stone at having been spotted. Diwizama moved cautiously, lifting her makeshift bag from the ground. The leopard's ears went back, watching her, nose twitching. She reached down, grabbing one of the short legs of the boar skeleton and lifting it with some difficult. She then tossed it at the leopard, who jumped and growled a warning. Likely it would have attacked if it didn't smell that what she had thrown at it was food. But it would not eat with her watching.

The feline didn't even blink as it watched her back away into the forest, but once she was a good distance away, it turned on the carcass and began to eat at what was left.

Diwizama took a few more steps back, before turning and making her way through the forest. She had a place for a camp in mind, hopefully it was unclaimed. She shared this jungle with many predators; leopards and crocodiles among them, and they all had parts of her lands to share. Usually the _Payas_ would collect many skulls of the dangerous animals even before her clan would arrive for the _Kure Tua_. Not these two. Mbia hadn't had a single skull on his trophy belt, and she hadn't seen any on the cloaked form of the younger _Paya_, but that didn't mean there wasn't any.

Pondering over the curiosity of why there were two of them here, Diwizama dropped out of a tree, holding onto the limb with one hand, feet planted against the trunk. She surveyed the small sanctuary, looking for life before touching down. Fresh water pooled in this area; a small pond nestled between some rocks, fed by a small stream. It was a very rocky area, but it was cool. Moss grew on the stones and ground, making it soft, and lichens gave wonderful color to the space.

She set her bag down and moved to the small pond, bending over the stones to reach in and scoop out water. She began cleaning herself of blood. She checked to look at the wounds on her chest, peeling off the scabs to cause irritation. She wanted them to be clear and visible when they healed.

Poking the puckering flesh, she went back into the trees to collect what dry wood she could find. She only needed a small fire to cook the meat. It was far too warm to need a larger fire for heat.

She opened up the pelt and laid it out, looking at the meat and selecting just two pieces. With the knife, she skinned and sharpened one of the long thin sticks and pierced the two pieces on it. Starting a fire was easy thanks to Mbia's knife, and she set the meat over the small circle of stones she had made to keep the blaze contained.

The pelt she tied back up, this time, though, using a strip of the pelt itself, tying the cord back around her waist. The jungle around her adjusted to her presence and had come to life again. She sat by her fire and looked up at some birds that were flittering overhead. The buzz of insects grew close by as they tried to find ways into the pelt, to get to the meat that they could smell within.

Diwizama drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them, looking around and listening.

"The jungle will let you know when a _Paya_ is near," she remembered her mother saying, "it knows who you are, and accepts you quickly. It does not know the _Payas_, and it is scared of them. It will always be silent where a _Paya_ is."

Diwizama ran her fingers against the decorative scars on her abdomen, checking on the meat and looking around again. The gold light had turned a shade of blue through the trees. She could feel the temperature change just a little. By the time it was growing dark, she was eating the meat, tearing pieces off with her teeth, right off the stick. She looked up every so often to watch and listen, then went back to eating.

Once dinner was over, she snuffed her fire and began cleaning the skull with the last bit of light. She set it to the side after washing it, admiring it as her eyes adjusted. She touched the smooth bone before standing up and grabbing her bag. The flies had since gone to sleep, so she didn't need to shoo any away, or worry about their noise attracting attention. She moved quietly, but on the ground. She was constantly stopping and listening, looking around, then moving forward again.

She paused when she saw a light. It was orange; a fire.

She stood still for a moment, feeling the stiffness and soreness of her muscles from her fight with Mbia. She couldn't afford to get into another one, not without rest. She stared a little longer, watching the light move against the trees gently. She stepped towards it, extra slow, paying careful attention not to make any noise.

She only got close enough that she could see who was camping, there were only two possibilities. Her eyes searched through the trees, keeping low to the ground, hidden by the leaves. Then she saw movement and her muscles tightened painfully. It was him, the other _Paya_, moving around with deadly quiet for how large he was. She shouldn't have seen him, hadn't earned the honor, but it was too late now. She was mesmerized. He was pale, like a phantom, with stripes across his body the color of drying blood.

His mask was still on, as was his armor. He was not going to let his guard down. Around his camp, there were no other skulls, no carcasses. She had been right in that he had not yet hunted anything else on the _Kure Tua_. That also meant he had no meat. She slowly eased the bag off her shoulder, lowering it to the ground. She kept her eyes on him. It seemed he was going through, checking his weapons, laying them carefully in a row after each thorough inspection.

She had once asked her mother why the _Payas_ needed fire. It was because they were cold. It seemed that no matter how hot the summer ever got during a _Kure Tua_ it was still cold for the _Payas_. The myths said it was because they lived in the stars. Ever star was the dwelling of a _Paya_, where he kept his family and his trophies and his gear, only coming out of his star for the _Kure Tua_, after commanding it to fall to Earth.

Diwizama knew better than that now, but the possibility that the _Paya_ was cold was still valid. Who knew where they came from, and what it was like there. She did not allow her the distraction of fantastic visions and dreams of the _Payas_' home world. She instead backed away from the bag, moving her way into the trees and far from the trail she left. She circled to her right, still within sight of the bag. She felt her throat tighten as she readied herself. She imitated the rattling clicks she had heard from Mbia.

She did it once more, then pressed herself close to the tree and listened. She made her breathing quiet, and focused on what she heard. This way she could track where he would move, for surely he had cloaked himself again. She heard him move to the trees, and followed the sound in her mind's eye. She saw the red beam flicker through the trees then disappear, the sound of his gun moving around on his shoulder.

He dropped down in the area she left the bag and was silent. Then he began clicking. It was a silent sort of language, the clicking that the _Payas_ used. They had basic meanings, meant to convey positions and orders, like the silent hand gestures of the military. These her clan had learned entirely, but could replicate very little as they did not have the parts meant to produce the sound. They could only get close to it, mimic it, and hope it sounded right.

This clicking, though, it was the same exact command she had used to get him into that position. He was telling her to come. He was searching for her, she was sure, but the thick trunk of the tree would hide her unless he moved around it. She heard the soft pelt being worked, and a rattle of curiosity. Then he was off again, into the trees and moving away. She waited longer, and blinked when the orange light was suddenly gone.

Of course he was going to move his camp now that she had discovered it. She was far enough away that her eyes only had to adjust a little in the new darkness. Then she heard no sounds, but still she waited. When she heard the usual noises of life stirring once more, she looked around the tree. The bag was still there. She moved over to it, and looked it over. She broke off a branch and dropped it near the bag, in case this _Paya_ was the sort to lay traps. It was discouraged, not forbidden. Nothing was set off and she eased down to the ground and where the bag lay. The meat was still inside, her offering was not accepted.

She didn't fret though, just as a lion may be wary of bait if it were to be a trap or to be drugged, so too the _Paya_ had left it alone. He had also moved on. It was getting too late to try again, and to properly convey the intent. So she tied the bag up and carried it back to her camp. She tied it up into a tree several yards away from the small clearing. If something would be brave enough to enter her space for it, she would rather it take the meat from far away, and not be tempted to snack on her as well.

Just as she entered into her clearing again the ground around her began to lighten with white light. She looked up as the moon crept into view. She watched it for a second, lifting her hand in greeting. She watched it move between her fingers and rest for a split second on the tip of one before lightly lifting off and calmly flying away.

Diwizama lowered her hand, looking upon the moon for a moment longer. She bent to get ready to lie down and rest, when around her the forest went quiet. She bolted, hopping onto the small stone circle and slowly slipped her feet into the pond, making as little noise as possible.

The water was cool, and it caused goose bumps to crawl along her flesh as she sank in until the water covered her head with lungs full of air. It was only a shallow pond; her feet were flat against the bottom, and her knees were bent. Her eyes looked up through the rippling water. She saw nothing. Nearly a minute passed by, her lungs were burning. Slowly, she straightened her legs. She was just going to put her lips to the surface and take a breath. The he appeared. His distorted image towering over the surface of the water. He wasn't cloaked. She needed to breathe, but she couldn't risk it. Hopefully he would assume she climbed the rocks and up into the trees.

She watched his distorted mask look from side to side, and then up. This could be her chance. She moved her hand to her belt, gripping the knife. Then he looked down, tilting his head at the water. She pulled her knife from the belt slowly, holding it with the blade down. She would take him down the same way she had Mbia. She was ready, all her muscles bunched to spring. She stopped. The pale hand touched the surface of the water. It bent around his flesh, catching the moonlight. Very gently, he moved his hand along the surface.

Diwizama's lips parted as she looked at the hand of the _Paya_, the hand of her god, so close. The moonlight filtered through the water around him, dancing around her, and through his fingers, playing shadows across her face. Her hand moved slowly, reaching up. She couldn't feel the pain in her lungs anymore, crystal bubbles made their way to the surface as her hand rose up.

His hand moved into the water up to his wrist, fingers relaxed. She moved her hand to touch them, slide her hand into his.

She missed her chance.

His fist clenched. Moonlight flashed against the silver of his blades as they shot out next to her. She inhaled water in surprise and leapt out. She swung her blade as she heard the water roar beneath her. She stumbled, slipping off the wet rocks as she heard a roar of pain behind her. She coughed out the water in her lungs, scrambling to her feet, stumbling.

Her shoulder hit a tree hard and caused her to fall. She saw just a blur, and reacted, turning her body away and hearing the wristblades slide into the dirt behind her. Drops of blood illuminated the ground around her as her blade made contact with his leg, which then kicked her hard in the ribs. It sent her flying, but when she landed, she rolled to her feet and took off running.

He did not shoot at her, but she heard singing through the air and threw herself forward, shoulder first. Dark lines appeared in the trees around her as the bladed disk sailed through them as easily as it did the air, going forward and then back to its master.

She shouldn't be running. She should be facing him. But in her present condition, she wouldn't be able to give him her best, it wouldn't be right.

She wove through the trees, back and forth. He did not try to throw the disk again, but she could hear him following, and closing in. She needed to vanish. Continuing to weave, she came to a sudden stop behind a tree. It confused him long enough for her to move a few trees away and scamper up into the branches.

She watched him move around, looking from side to side, his dreads sliding along his skin. He even looked up, but the leaves were thick where she was hidden. After a moment, he was calm, his scanning of the forest was slow and deliberate. Finally, he turned and walked away into the jungle, disappearing from view again.

She needed to move. He would return to where he lost the trail to keep looking for her. She moved north, diagonally from the direction he left in, not the complete opposite. The night was old by the time she chose a tree and made a nest of the leaves in the same fashion as the gorilla. Her clan had learned as much from nature as they had the _Payas_.

She laid down in the nest and let out a heavy breath. She could now feel a wound that adrenaline had hidden from her previously; she would have to properly dress it in the morning. All her body ached, her chest felt like fire, and her eyelids refused to remain open. As she began to drift off, she recalled the _Paya's_ hand reaching for her.

_Torodondodondo_, she thought as the world around that striped, white hand went dark, _Torodondodondo._

The striped ghost.

When she awoke, the sky was light, but the sun had not risen. Around her the forest was alive, so she was relatively safe. Giving a study of her surroundings, she left her nest and moved through the branches back to the clearing. The pelt of meat had been dragged away and torn open at the base of a tree, and lounging on the branch, licking its paws, was the leopard.

"That was not for you," she said, pursing her lips in disappointment. When the leopard paused to look at her, she left. A new day of the _Kure Tua_ had begun.


	7. Quarry

She gently packed the tree sap into the wound of her thigh. She didn't remember exactly when she got it, though she guessed it was when she jumped out of the water as he had slashed through it. Sucking on her fingers, she looked at it again. She had needed to remove the crust from the wound, so wet lines of blood had trailed down to the back of her thigh. But the sap had stemmed the bleeding. She checked the other wound on her chest; it was still puckered in a desirable way. If the swelling went down, she would irritate it again. She lowered her leg, straddling the branch she was on, and began to think.

Last night had been a series of mistakes on her part, and she was seeing why, now that she was awake. She had to be especially careful now; Torodondodondo knew who his opponent was. The hunt would be more difficult if she wanted to keep any advantage she had. But she didn't know where Torodondodondo was, and she was reluctant to go to the spot she had lost him to pick up his trail. She would have to, but would have to be careful. It was very likely he had the same idea, or even the idea to simply wait for her there, knowing she would come. She never had to forget that ultimately _she_ was the prey; it was her purpose.

Turning, Diwizama made her way further up the tree, climbing up the smaller and smaller branches until she was primarily sliding up the trunk. Once her head broke the leaves she looked around, orienting herself. To the west she saw where the trees gave way to the large river where she had hunted the river hogs. There was a city near there, where she did most of her trading for books, and where she would meet the man who took care of the safe. There was very little else around her lands, a few other cities that were near them along the river, but to the east was wide open, and hers.

Turning towards the still ascending sun, she saw the small hole in the trees where her village was, then looked to the south where far away the tree line was suddenly gone. Those were the diamond mines. Having fixed her location between those three points, she looked to the north and paused. Her expression fell like a stone as she looked over and saw smoke curling into the sky through the trees. That meant only one thing: trespassers. She didn't have the luxury of going and dealing with them now, whether they were poachers or soldiers. Poachers were more likely; the people of this land knew better.

Frustrated, she ducked back into the leaves and climbed down. Across the branches she went, heading back the way she had come the previous night, but avoiding the same exact path. The closer she got, the slower she went, the more cautious she was.

She paused often, sometimes crawling as slow as a chameleon across a branch and to another one. Once she found the damaged trees, she turned her gaze to the ground. The clawed footprints were deep in the earth and very clear. She moved along the tree limbs, looking up and around often as she followed the trail. When it vanished, she moved to the tree above and pinched between her fingers dry soil clinging to the branch. She searched around until she found the next smear, and then the next. Eventually that trail faded away, but she had a decent idea of what direction Torodondodondo had gone in.

He was heading south. Hopefully he had not discovered the mines. While the workers there would be safe, the soldiers were free to attack, fitting the _Payas_' code of appropriate game. She began to move along the branches, flickering under the beams of sunlight that reached down unhindered to the jungle floor. She passed over a small herd of bongo and noted their location for hunting later if she returned to this place. They moved nervously, hearing her pass by but did not take off into the trees. She was not hunting them.

As she moved along, she changed direction every now and then to make a sweep from east to west to see if she could pick up the trail. There were little things that kept her going. Here there was a broken branch, one too thick to have been broken by an ape. There a set of prints where he went to the ground for a few moments before climbing back into the trees. But most of the time there was nothing, and she had to just go forward with the risk of it not being the right way. Either she picked the trail up again, or had to go back and try a different direction.

Her search came to a sudden halt when she heard a rattle. She froze instantly and pressed to the tree branch. It happened again, but it made no sense. Even the rattle made by a _Paya_ in rest had a meaning to it. This was just… noise. She looked around, but did not spot Torodondodondo. The jungle around her was still alive, which should not have been the case.

She slowly moved forward, creeping along silently, following the sound. She stopped every now and then when the rattle sounded again, every time expecting the cold touch of blades through her back. But it never happened. She slithered forward and froze when she caught a bright golden glow. She held her breath, waiting, but it didn't move. She crept closer, her hand lifting from a branch, removing the _ba_ from her side and placing it down in one fluid movement that did not interrupt her advance.

She stopped right above the glow, eyes wide, breathing shallow. She did not need the spear. Torodondodondo was lying in a spot of sun, bathing in the same way a lizard would. One hand was thrown over his stomach, the other rested in a natural position at his side. A long gash ran from the center of his pectorals and diagonally across his left collarbone. Dried dark green blood, no longer glowing, was sprayed over his chest from the wound.

The soft rattle came from deep in his throat as his chest rose, then lowered silently.

He must have been exhausted, to have fallen asleep with his mask and armor on. That, or he was not going to be caught without them in the case of an emergency.

Diwizama thought of what to do, watching the _Paya_ sleep. Given how long it took for her to find him, it was likely he would not be asleep for much longer. She tilted her head then looked around. She needed to lead him away from the south. The further they were away from the mines the better. But it would not be wise to awaken him either. She lay stiffly on the branch above Torodondodondo and thought. Then she lifted her head from the wood and carefully climbed down. She froze, hanging from the lowest branch when he rattled again, but his sleep was undisturbed save by whatever dream he was having.

Her feet touched down on the ground and she crept forward, removing Mbia's spear from the belt. She was approaching a sleeping predator, which was dangerous to do no matter the species. She moved slowly, every muscles tense, ready to spring if the need arose. She paused mid-step as his head moved to the side, the grey eyes of his mask staring right at her, and her heart smashed against her sternum. But he did not move, and his breathing did not change. She exhaled silently and stepped forward. She was close now. She continued her approach with short sliding movements, one hand up ready to defend, the other holding the spear towards the ground.

She was close enough now to the hand he had away from him. His sharp claws were digging into the soft earth even without him trying. She held her breath and moved to lower the spear to the ground so that it would be right next to his hand. She jumped. Torodondodondo suddenly moved. One great shoulder lifted from the ground. His black dreads slid across his shoulders. The charms lightly sang against each other as his large back was turned to her, exposing a scar. He snorted once, head shaking slightly before he was still again, and his sides rose and fell steadily.

Diwizama's shoulders fell, the task ahead now suddenly very much more difficult. Her brow furrowed and she shook her head slightly, looking up through the small space in the trees. There was no helping it. She readied herself again and made her way around, opting to go the way around his legs, as they would be least dangerous if he awakened than if she had rounded his torso.

She knew that showing the back to someone was a grave insult to the _Payas_, like saying that they were not dangerous. It was something her clan had adopted as well, and to not answer the insult was a sign of weakness, but what more proved the offender _right._ While Diwizama could amuse herself with the circumstances, Torodondodondo was asleep; the 'insult' was entirely unintended.

She moved past his spiked heels and moved back up his body, being ever cautious. Her toes dug into the soft earth, as she leaned forward. Mbia's spear lightly touched the ground in front of Torodondodondo's mask, above his hand. His mask was beautiful, it looked like the traditional masks the _Payas_ wore, but it was more rounded, save for the crown, which was serrated on the edges.

She held her breath, wanting to touch the surface of the mask. Her fingers flexed, but then curled, remembering her mistake the previous night. She retracted her hand. He had no mark carved into it the brow like others she had seen in the vault, but what she was looking for was carved just beneath where she had cut him. It was such a shallow wound; she had thought it had been much graver from the way that he had roared.

She didn't have time to ponder it, turning and heading back the way she came, quietly, but on the ground. She intentionally bent the plants and moved things to clear her way. She wanted to leave a trail for him to follow. Hopefully, though, the return of Mbia's spear would be enough to get him more interested in coming after her and keep him from going further south.

She moved quickly, but didn't run. She didn't want Torodondodondo suddenly appearing behind her, or worse, above. But the jungle around her was still alive, the animals were joined in chorus. She almost relaxed, brushing her hand along some ferns, feeling the cool slick blades on her hand before she grabbed and broke the ends. She looked up at an osprey sitting in a tree. It observed her with sharp cocks of its head and made a soft noise.

"I'm much too big for you," she said to it quietly as it turned a golden eye to her again, then its attention went elsewhere. She continued on her path, turning to where the bongo had been and climbed up into the trees. She had left a good enough trail. She could hunt now and retrieve the kill later, in case she survived and was too tired or sore.

She heard movement ahead and her muscles all tensed, her eyes widened for more light and she crept forward. The Bongo were nervous now, sensing they were being hunted, but this time Diwizama was being quiet, and they did not know where the danger was. She stayed above them, readying her spear and looking for a good individual that would both feed her and make a good offering to Torodondodondo. She selected a good-sized, thick-horned buck with a deep russet coat striped with white. She dropped down out of the tree, spear angled down and pierced the hide of the buck easily.

The herd flew into a flurry, and in the chaos the sun glinted off of sharp metal. The spear missed her, flying into the forest. Diwizama wasn't sure how Torodondodondo missed, maybe the many jumping warm bodies around her confused him, but she reacted quickly. The herd was dispersing around her, trying to choose and follow a direction but had no leader. Torodondodondo appeared, leaping into the fray and his blades flashing out. Blood sprayed everywhere and bodies hit the ground all around her but she stayed put, even though the heavy weight on top of her made it difficult to breathe.

It took only a second for the rest of the herd to scatter, and Torodondodondo followed after them, then stopped and rattled, looking at the fleeing individuals, then turned. His gaze was down, searching the ground, but all he could find were bongo bodies and pieces. His rattle was frustrated and he kicked a large buck. Diwizama's muscles went tight.

Torodondodondo gave a quick jerk of his head and bent, lifting the corpse of a doe, one hand nearly encircling her entire neck. He moved the head back and forth before abruptly dropping it and standing. Diwizaba's lungs burned for air but still she held her breath. His head turned again as something else caught his attention. He moved closer to her, stopping so close that she could see the claws of his four prominent toes with detail. She heard him rattle above her and got ready. The moment the weight was lifted off of her she shot forward, spear angled upwards. She felt it penetrate through flesh, and Torodondodondo's roar of battle turned to one of pain, then rage.

She saw white spots in her vision as she fell to the earth. The back of his hand had turned her head so quickly her neck had cracked and she was dizzy. She stood immediately, becoming aware that her spear was still in her hand, perhaps torn out by the very force that threw her. The flowing green blood spilled across Torodondodondo's knee as he faced her and roared. She heard his wristblades unsheathe and steadied herself.

The grace and power with which Torodondodondo attacked was unrivaled. Mbia had not been so fluid, brusquer in his style, with strong movements. Mbia was like a buffalo. Torodondodondo was like a leopard.

Diwizama anchored herself and swung into his oncoming attack, avoiding his first lunge forward and bringing the end of the spear to his wristblades, forcing them down to the earth. He recovered quickly, opening his hand against the ground and shifting his center, swinging his other blades backwards at her legs. Diwizama stumbled out of reach and then jumped, putting more distance between them. He closed it easily in just two strides, leg muscles rippling. She jumped, turning her body sideways and hit his chest with her shoulder.

She went flying to the ground, the soil grinding against her skin. She rolled out of the way as his wristblades sank deep into the soft earth. Rather than pull them out he simply swung his arm, the blades carving to the side, bringing them up through the earth. She felt the edge of her ear slice open and hissed in pain. Blood fountained onto her shoulder as she whirled to her feet, facing him again, in her hand a small brown sphere.

Torodondodondo seemed to recognize it, jumping slightly at the sight of it in her palm and his muscles bulging to dodge. She anticipated it, though, and threw the sphere into his path. It hit him square in the chest and his roar sent birds fleeing out of the trees in clouds.

The bright white arches of energy ran over his body, causing his skin to twitch and spasm. All of his muscles involuntarily tightened, immobilizing him. He seemed ready to fall to his knees, but he was too proud for that. The shock lasted only a few seconds before dissipating and leaving Torodondodondo heaving breaths. But by then Diwizama was gone, running into the jungle towards the north. No doubt he could see her retreating, what she didn't understand was why he had not thrown another disk at her.

Eventually, she dared to look back over her shoulder. Torodondodondo was not following her, still she ran, sure that her mother's ghost was cursing her for doing so. She ran until her sides hurt, breathing felt like inhaling fire, and she could taste iron in the back of her throat. She fell onto a tree, her legs burning in protest, convulsing. She didn't know what else to do. It felt wrong to make the final blow against Torodondodondo when he was paralyzed like that, unable to defend himself. She had no idea those metal spheres were _that _effective on a living body. She resolved to not use them again. She leaned away from the tree, still not having caught her breath, but she couldn't stay here.

She saw the jungle move and whipped her body to face Torodondodondo, not knowing how he had caught up to her. She reacted far too slowly, hearing a metallic sound. She felt cold metal on either side of her neck. She was slammed back against a tree, her throat trapped between the two blades on his wrist. Torodondodondo's cloak dropped as he lifted his other arm, extending the wristblades with a deliberate curl of his fingers. He had won, the hunt was over. She set her jaw, hands pressed against the tree and looked upon him with hard eyes.

He hesitated, fingers flexing then curling again. He tilted his head, rattling with curiosity. There was a deep guttural roar. Diwizama felt the cut of the wristblades as they dislodged suddenly from the tree. She put her hand reflexively to the wound on her neck, fingers slick with blood and stumbled to the side, watching with awe. A gold spotted mass of muscle was on Torodondodondo's back, claws raking the skin as teeth bit, trying to get to the back of his neck through the dreads. Diwizama watched splashes of green blood fly as the leopard snarled and tried to get a hold on its victim. Torodondodondo roared and arched his back, throwing the leopard off.

He turned around, wristblades brandished at the feline who flashed its own weapons. Its hunt just went very badly where unaware prey should have been easily taken down. But this was no antelope or hog, not even a man. This was a _Paya._

Back arched, the leopard tried to weigh its options, but the hesitation was a bad choice in itself. Torodondodondo lunged, wristblades ready. The leopard reflexively jumped for his throat, but came up short. The hit was not direct, though; the claws of the leopard raking down the _Paya's_ chest distracting it enough that the wound was not instantaneously fatal.

That was all Diwizama saw. She ran into the trees. She could feel the blades of ferns and grasses vainly try to cut as her skin. Her calves became slick with the blood of breaking plants. She stumbled, fell, stood back up, cut to her left and ran in a new direction. She didn't know where she was going, had no destination or plan in mind. She just ran, one hand clamped to the wound on her neck when it was not breaking her falls or helping her dodge trees.

Then, a blood-curdling roar shattered the air, and a chill went down her spine. Her eyes widened, breathing became difficult. She didn't stop.


	8. The Arbiter

She was lucky, so very lucky. Though she could not see it, it was easy to tell that the wound on her neck had not been deep enough to be fatal. She would have died by now. She had many wounds she needed to tend to properly, but she wasn't out of danger yet. She had not gotten very far away from Torodondodondo. She was close enough that she had heard his final roar of fury.

She had to keep moving, despite the pain, and the fatigue. When a predator was at the back, prey did not stop to rest until their heart or legs gave out. She would give Torodondodondo a proper chase, even if it would not have been her mother's way.

Pushing off of a tree, leaving a bloody handprint on the wood, she stumbled forward, heading east. She had moved in as random pattern as she could imagine, crossing her own path several times, and now needed to get back into the branches. She was in bad condition, climbing would be difficult; she was searching for a tree with low branches.

There was little doubt in her mind that the _Paya_ would catch up to her and finish her off. The sun was past its peak in the sky. She was not looking forward to the darkness.

Further and further she went, expecting each step to be her last. She grunted as she slipped, falling further than she expected, her stomach flipping as she tumbled down a hill. She hit the ground hard, the sting of her wounds only spurring her on. She crossed into a small clearing, the light of the sun shimmering down undeterred. She foolishly ran straight through rather than go around.

She was suddenly knocked off her feet, a solid blow to her face. She landed on her back right where she was standing, looking up for Torodondodondo. She saw the telltale signs of the cloak and felt her heart beat against her chest and face. But after a few seconds, nothing moved. Her eyes wandered. The cloak was much too large. She stood, shakily, taking a couple steps back, looking at the large invisible thing, then at the broken branches that lay around it, which led to her looking up at the tattered canopy. She felt hot fluid run down her lips and chin, but paid no mind to it. She had come to a horrible realization as her gaze lowered back to the cloak. She had just run into the _Danda Kerekuru._

It was forbidden.

After any hunt that ended in the _Kure Iradandaanya's_ success, all things belonging to the _Paya_ remained with them. Except for the _Danda Kerekuru_. The star always returned to the sky after the death of its master. It was decided that this meant that of all things the star was not meant for them to have, and so to seek it out, to lay eyes upon it or touch it, was taboo and painfully punished.

Even though Diwizama knew better, knew that the _Danda Kerekuru_ was a vessel, and not a sacred star, she could not help the bumps that crawled on her flesh, and the shivering that took over her body. She was at a loss for what to do. She was chief, she would be the one to mete out punishment to the offender, but she could not imagine how she would accomplish such a task with no one to aid her.

She very slowly took heavy steps away from the ship and the clearing, looking around as if to see that there were witnesses, if Torodondodondo himself was there, judging. There was no one, but that did not mean it didn't happen. She would find a way to punish herself after the hunt, but for now she just kept walking.

An hour later found her sitting on the ground, her back against a tree. The new wounds on her skin had been treated with sap from the tree, which was slowly running against her shoulder. She looked blankly ahead, legs stretched out in front of her, hands on her legs. Where was Torodondodondo? Had he really fallen for such an easy trick as the one she had left behind? She doubted it. Maybe he was treating his own wounds? She didn't think she had wounded him that severely; the _Payas_ had often shrugged off wounds that would have crippled humans. She had heard all the stories; of Ngumo who had continued to fight even after his arm had been severed from his shoulder. Of Bakindo, who took down twenty of the _Kure Iradandaanya_ after having been mauled by a pride of hunting lionesses. And of Kpakpusezama who had slain Biraragowe in _jedhin jedhin_, even after receiving a grievous wound from him, so deep and wide that the _Paya's_ lung could be seen through the ribs.

Something as simple as a flesh wound from a _ba _wielded by a human would not have slowed any _Paya_ down. Perhaps it was the leopard. The beast had saved her life, though it had not intended to. She had been ready to die, and she was unsure of what to do. The obvious answer was to continue, to serve out her purpose until either she or the _Paya_ was dead. She didn't feel worthy though. She was alive only because of luck, because of an accident. Torodondodondo had won. Honorable death was hers and it was stolen from her. She wasn't sure if she was thankful or not.

If the leopard had managed to take Torodondodondo down… she had to see. Diwizama forced herself to her feet, feeling her body protest. She headed back west, following her own path back, back to where the fight occurred.

There was blood everywhere, dully glowing green and dark red. But there was no body. The leopard would not have been strong enough to drag the _Paya_ away in the time she was gone, but Torodondodondo could have carried away the leopard. A simple search revealed that the red blood trail went in one direction, and the faded green in another. She stood alone on the battleground, looking back and forth between the two trails. She shouldn't have run. She should have stayed and made her final stand here.

Her head lowered, eyes looking at the earth but seeing through it. She stood a shadow against the lush green of the earth, surrounded by carnage. After a moment, she turned towards the green path and began to follow it. She could smell rain in the air, thick as it was. The storm growing above mirrored her soul, but her mind was quiet, and her heart steady.

The trail never went thin. It was an eventuality that she found Torodondodondo. He was already facing her, having heard her approach from further away. She did not understand why he sat waiting for her any more than why she had walked up to him without trying to conceal herself. She could see the damage that the leopard had done to the _Paya_. Most of them were nothing, he would heal from them easily, and probably wouldn't even scar if he didn't want to.

Her eyes moved along him, seeing a metal dish open with a bright blue jelly inside. The distortion above it spoke of a great amount of heat though she saw no source beneath it. He had smeared this jelly on most of the wound on his shoulder.

The two of them were completely still, looking at each other. She felt heat on her stomach and looked down at three small red dots on her abdomen as he rattled. These moved up along her body until it rested on her brow. She looked at Torodondodondo without fear, empty-handed. The guns on his shoulder swiveled then folded back. Diwizama nodded to what he was doing and bent down, resting on the balls of her feet, waiting.

The _Paya_ cocked his head and rattled. He looked back at the jelly on the knife he had, which had gone from bright blue to dark, putting it back to reheat and getting some fresh. Diwizama flinched at his roar of pain, her claws pressing into her legs for a second before she relaxed. He was cauterizing his wound, the most severe one at the very least, the spear wound she had inflicted on him was already done, and an empty syringe sat nearby. She mused on how he trusted her enough to focus on his task while she was there. Another roar of pain and a hissing breath and Torodondodondo closed the dish, encasing the left-over jelly. He shifted, putting the knife and the dish away a metal case beside him along with the syringe, which closed into a tear shaped capsule. His gaze turned to her again as he lifted the kit and set it on his back. She heard small noises from behind him as it clasped onto his back. He stood from his seat and looked down at her as she followed suit.

He stepped forward then froze. Diwizama had reached for her belt but also froze. When nothing happened she moved the knife from it and slipped it through the string of her loincloth. She took her _ba_ from the belt, and then set it on the ground, spear in hand. The _Paya_ watched her back away, stepping forward until he was by the belt, looking at it, then at her, head tilted. She made no movement. He looked at it again, scooping it up and checking it over. He deftly put it around his waist, above his own and secured it before looking at her again. She was still armed, she hadn't given up.

He looked her over, rattling. She could hear the curiosity in it, the confusion. She held out her _ba_ in front of her, extending it to its full length. The _Paya_ tensed momentarily, waiting, his body turned sideways towards her. Then he stepped forward, facing her fully. He reached over his shoulder, removing his own _ba_ from his back and also extending it. Torodondodondo clicked. Diwizama inhaled.

The woman dropped to the ground, anticipating his first strike by the way he was holding his spear. As the weapon whistled overhead, she lunged forward but he had seen this move before, and the other end of his _ba_ swung down, using the momentum of his previous attack, it knocked her spear away from him, and caused her to lose her balance. She caught her stumble, turning and holding her _ba_ defensively, receiving another ringing blow that made her shoulder hurt. But she reversed the momentum in a fluid motion and swung down at his legs. He leapt backwards, putting distance between her and him.

There everything froze as the two warriors sized each other up again. Fingers flexed and tightened against the curled metal. The forest rang with the song of alien metal as they clashed again. She would never beat him in a battle of strength, ever. Speed and agility were fairly even, if not tipped in his favor. This was a battle of skill, it always was, always had been. It was why the _Paya_ had ever found them worthy; their ability to think, strategize, plan ahead, to perfect technique, build on strengths and exploit limitations, to learn and adapt. This was why they were worthy; because they were inferior in every other way but could find ways to victory.

She had survived this long, reading his movements, predict his attacks and react accordingly. The difficulty was so could he. He was a very skilled _Paya_, one the likes of which her clan had ever encountered before.

A good effort to put his spear into the ground was countered by a hard fist to her face. She stumbled back, tasting blood on her lips for a second time that day. She licked the blood away and put distance between them again. She could tell by the way he was fighting he was trying to knock her prone, so she took to high ground, jumping up into a tree, grimacing slightly, and moved into the branches. Torodondodondo was up into the trees with her with one simple leap, and his _ba _tore open the wood of the branch she was about to climb to.

Diwizama flinched back down and looked at the pale _Paya_ as he drew back his hand again. Her plan changed pivoting on the wood and met his spear with hers. Balance was the game now, each blow made threatened to knock one from the branches, which would spell victory for the one who could stay above. She parried one of his strikes and nearly fell backwards. Recovering quickly she struck at his spear, rolling the shaft of the _ba_ around his, nearly twisting his arm. He caught himself with his hand against the trunk of the tree, leaving gouges in the wood from his claws.

As good of an idea as this was, it would be dangerous for her as well. If she fell from this height, she would not come out of it unbroken. Torodonodondo took a risk, jumping to a closer branch to Diwizama, narrowly missing her _ba_ as she stabbed it towards his shoulder, and he struck forward, piercing her shoulder. Tearing it out was more painful, but she didn't cry out. She raised her spear in her hands, feeling the agony of damaged muscles, the soreness of near-numb arms, but still ready to fight till the last.

Torodondodondo held his spear in both hands, and she could see the maneuver he was going to use to force her out of the tree, but then he paused, head whipping to the side. She was as motionless, wondering what had caught his attention enough to stop fighting. She watched his back for a moment, trying to follow his gaze and see what he saw. He suddenly flipped open his wrist device, tapping it, causing a sick feeling in her stomach, but he merely cloaked. That was when she heard it, the snapping of twigs and cutting of foliage. She moved to the branch, laying down along it lengthwise, retracting her _ba._

Out of the jungle came a troop of men, skin as dark as hers, shaved heads, large guns. Their sweat was visible on the clothes they wore, which was of similar colors to the plants, but what military would call 'civilian wear.' They walked in a line, no larger than two men wide. The one man in the front had a machete, cutting through the plants that he couldn't be bothered walking around.

Diwizama could feel the stiffness begin to settle into her wounded areas as she stayed completely still, observing the men with one eye over her shoulder. These were not soldiers, not really, though they would call themselves much. The world believed that the civil war had ended four years ago, but the truth was that war had never ended in Africa, ever. Violence was a way of life, since the time of the tribes who would roam, conquer and enslave. The _Kure Iradandaanya _had been no different.

Beside her, she could see the cloaked form of the _Paya_, only because she knew what she was looking for. The outline of his head was tilted as he knelt on the branch. He was observing the men, and she knew why. They were all armed. Fair game.

She stayed still, waiting for whatever happened next, but Torodondodondo did not engage them, only watched as they passed under him. The leader raised his machete to cut down another fern when he stopped and held a hand to signal a halt. All the men stopped and looked around for danger, but of course did not see any. The leader's eyes were fixed to the ground.

While it was not torn to shreds like the previous fight, a trained eye could tell when plants had been moved through and stomped over. He had caught on to the battle ground. He took a cautious step forward, surveying the area, trying to judge how many people, and in what direction they had gone on.

In the dead silence that followed, Diwizama heard a light dripping noise. Her brow furrowed as she tried to pinpoint it. It wasn't rain, the storm was not yet there, and the sky hadn't even turned grey yet. She soon realized that it was coming from beneath her, and what it was.

Torodondodondo looked over at Diwizama, eyes flashing for she had drawn the dagger from her waist. But she slowly and methodically dug the tip into the wood in front of her until it stood on its own. She looked over at him, as his gaze went to one of the men who were breaking formation to move closer to the tree she was in. He moved his hand to a large leaf, and touched a dark wet stain. He rubbed it between his fingers and smelled it. Diwizama moved her retracted _ba_, to her other side. She heard the sudden sound of alarm below her. She tossed the weapon to Torodondodondo, just as a dark hand wrapped around her ankle.

Her jaw smacked hard on the branch, causing her teeth to clack painfully together. She landed hard on the ground, knees bent and one hand planted on the soil. She lashed out and fought back as hands tried to grab her, calling out a guttural battle cry. She could hear laughing among the men as she fought, clawing the face of one man, crouching and lunging at another, throwing him to the ground by the front of his shirt.

Her legs were swiped out from under her by cold metal. She scrambled forward, her claws breaking on the surface of a stone. She was grabbed by her wounded shoulder, and she turned and smashed the rock against the face of the one who touched her. She pounced onto him, now armed, and smashed his face again. She was smacked in the head with the broad end of a gun, and she saw stars. The men seized her, fought her thrashing body to the ground and held her. The language they spoke, she recognized it, a dialect of Bantu; Lingála.

"What do we have here?" said the one with the machete.

Diwizama cursed profusely enough to make an American proud.

"A Zande woman sounds like," one said, who had her arm pinned painfully behind her back.

"This far south?" the leader flashed his teeth at her, a shock of white as he bent down in front of her, "what's a woman like you doing so far away from your tribe? Running away?"

Diwizama spat in his face and was rewarded with a fist to her cheek, hard enough to send the world spinning.

"No wait," said one, which gave the leader pause as he was about to hit her again, "the scars she wears, she's not a Zande, they don't have scars like this," the one pondered for a bit, and Diwizama glanced around, looking at where Torodondodondo was, hoping he would stay there. She would not risk the gifts of the _Payas_ falling into the hands of men like these, she hoped that he wouldn't either, even knowing Torodondodondo's skill.

"She's one of those _Kure Iradandaanya_," the man finally said, "they're the ones who decorate themselves with scars of battle."

"I thought they were wiped out," said one of the ones holding her down.

"A rare treat then," the leader said darkly and moved away, standing up, "help yourselves men, I think you earned it."

Diwizama hunched her back, leaning forward to throw the men off balance, wrestling her arm from behind her but not quite out of the man's grip. She planted a foot to stand but was struck hard on the back of her head again. She fell forward, dazed, numb to the hands that grabbed her and moved her to her back. She tried to struggle, thought to, but wasn't sure if her body responded to the command. She was laid on her back, held down on her wrists, shoulders, and a blade to her neck. She kicked and her ankles were restrained, she saw the man whose face she had struck come towards her, hands at the front of his pants. His bloody grin didn't frighten her. She would not give them the satisfaction of crying out, or seeing her pain.

She heard the clinking of metal as his belt was undone, then heard the sound of metal slicing through the air. The man froze, a look of horrified confusion on his face, before his head rolled from his shoulders in pieces. The moment of silence before the panic was deafening. Torodondodondo uncloaked before them, wristblades appearing beneath the fresh blood.

He lifted the blades, ready, "_N'yaka-de_," she called to him.

As the gunfire started, she was released, she grabbed the hand with the knife and turned it, stabbing it backwards and was rewarded with a grunt of pain. She flipped onto her stomach keeping low because the men were aiming high. She saw bright blood falling to the ground and roars of anger, but the bullets didn't slow him down. The man she stabbed fell to his knees and then to the ground and she grabbed the blade out of his stomach.

She moved along the dirt, under the bush. Slipping towards the men was easy while their attention was on Tordondodondo. She cut the ankles of one, bringing him down as his bullets tore through the canopy. She silenced him quickly and took his gun, smashing it against a tree. She looked over as another roar broke through the air. A long thin line of green ran across Torodondodondo's chest and the man with the machete had his blade lifted for another strike. The _Paya_ was ready to counter, much faster and more skilled than this man who was playing at warrior, but a knife found itself dug deep into the man's side and he yelled out in pain.

Torodondodondo paused in his counter attack towards the man and looked over at Diwizama, lowering her arm from the throw and raising her other, dragging her broken claws against his face and eyes as her other hand grabbed the barrel of his gun and aimed it at another man. Blood was flying everywhere, screams of battle, pain and fear rattled the jungle. Slowly it died down, until the final voice was silenced.

Diwizama watched Torodondodondo inspect then drop the final man, before looking over at her. He stepped forward cautiously, looking at her, wristblades still extended, then looked down around him. He moved to the man with the machete and turned him onto his front. Realizing what he was about to do, Diwizama stepped quickly to him.

"_Master_," she called to him again, her hand grabbing his wrist. He looked at her sharply with a grunt from beneath his mask and she removed her hand from his arm, gasping slightly at what she had just done. He was still, and she swallowed once before continuing, "_dis-honorable… prey. Bad_," she paused, struggling with what to say, "_bad bloods._"

Torodondodondo's rattle was a mixture of confusion, curiosity, and something that seemed like he was impressed. Still he looked at the trophy he was about to claim, and his wristblades retracted. She took a step back, "_we continue master_," she said lowering her head. He tilted his head and faced her again. He reached to his belt and removed from it her _ba. _He flexed his fingers around it for a second before holding it out to her. She took it reverently, and he gently let go and also took a step back.

She looked up at him, "_five… five…_," she was at a loss, the _Payas_ did not have a word for what she needed to say, or at least, her clan had not observed one, "five minute head start," she finally said in her language, which caused another tilt of Torodondodondo's head and a curious click. She bent down and pulled the knife out of the dead man and moved to a spot where the sun shone through. He watched her work, cautious about her with the blade.

She moved the bloodied stone to a spot, and then held the blade perpendicular to the ground, moving it away from the rock until the end of the shadow was a few inches away. She stabbed the knife in and looked to the _Paya. _Hopefully the shadow would cool off the earth enough that he could perceive when it touched the stone, which would absorb the sun's heat.

She pointed to the edge of the shadow, then to the stone, then to him, before resting a hand on her chest. She wasn't sure if Torodondodondo understood, then he nodded, and shifted his weight to one foot. He would wait. She stood up and moved into the forest to get ready. She was not in good shape, and she hoped that she could give the _Paya_ a good last fight.


	9. In Repose

She headed back south, through the trees, first on foot, then up into the branches. She was really feeling the day's ache in her body, objecting as she moved through the branches. More than once it caused her to falter and nearly fall back to the ground.

Finally she found an area to wait for Torodondodondo. The trees grew close together here, and the branches were full of leaves. She crawled up into them and stayed as still as possible. She waited. Five minutes passed. Then ten. She relented to her body's demands and found a more comfortable position in the tree, taking her weight off of her legs and arms, laying on the branch. Twenty minutes passed. Diwizama's brow furrowed, wondering where he was.

Then she heard thunder. She looked up and saw through the leaves that the sky had turned a dark grey. She stared at it until rain started to fall. It was deafening, the sound of countless drops of water striking the thick leaves of the jungle. Her shoulders sagged, only barely protected where she was, but not because it was bothersome to her. The _Payas_ did not hunt in the rain. They were near blind, and it was cold for them.

Diwizama crawled back out of the tree, landing on the muddy ground and rubbing her arms, easing the soreness and rubbing the goosebumps. She looked around, then began to head further south. She knew a place near here that would be dry.

She was soaked within minutes, and there were times that she was sinking to her ankles in the mud. Torodondodondo would have had a much more difficult time than her, being much larger and heavier. He probably stayed to the trees though. She was too sore for that.

She stopped suddenly, hearing a soft growl and looked around. She drew her _ba_, knowing the sound of suffering animal, and knowing that they were often dangerous. Getting closer and closer she wondered what it could be, having not heard this noise before. Then she saw it; a pile of fur, sticking up in sharp points, side slowly rising and then lowering with a soft growling sound. It was the leopard, the mud around it stained red with blood.

Diwizama carefully moved over, extending her _ba_ as she got closer. She walked around it, to where its head was and lowered the weapon. It was barely alive, its head sunk into the mud, mouth open slightly. If it knew she was there, it could not have responded. It was too far gone. She inhaled slowly and moved up, looking at the wounds over its body. She stayed far enough away that if life suddenly returned to the feline, it could not reach her. She lifted her spear and stabbed it easily into its heart. It choked for a single moment, then the last bit of air left its lungs and it was still.

She removed the spear and looked over the feline. She blinked once, bending down and grabbing its fur. She lifted it up onto her shoulder and moved it to be more under a tree. Without the knife, cleaning was difficult. She managed with the spear, though it was sloppy, using the tool for a purpose it was not meant for. She hoped, as she worked, that Torodondodondo had taken Mbia's knife from where she left it. She wouldn't want any humans to find it.

Tying the pelt full of meat with the Mbia's chord from around her waist, she lifted it all onto her shoulder, grimacing at the strain, and headed back north. She paused often to rest, though she never let the pelt touch the ground. Eventually she found what she was looking for, Torodondodondo's tracks sunk deep in the mud. It seemed he had come looking for her, before the weather forced him to seek shelter. She followed the trail he left in the ground and trees and eventually came upon the _Paya_. He was huddled under a small cave of earth, likely formed in a storm very much like this one but with more flooding. He had a small fire in front of him, keeping warm in the dropped temperature.

He stood up when she neared, stepping out into the rain and facing her, shoulders squared back. She looked over at him, waiting for an attack or for the three lights of his mask to be trained on her, but he did nothing. She stepped forward, carefully, waiting until she was near enough that he could grab her if he wanted. She moved the makeshift bag from her shoulder and set it down on the ground before him. She eased it open and pulled out the head of the leopard, setting it on top before backing away. It was his kill, his trophy.

He moved forward and she backed away. He took the head in one massive head and inspected it, then looked at her again. She stared straight at him, into the grey eyes of his mask. She did not wait for anything, she did not expect thanks. She left back into the forest, heading south, promising her body that it would be allowed to rest soon. The rain hadn't eased up by the time she arrived to a cave carved out of the earth. She moved in without fear, moving further back into the darkness until she could barely see. She paused and listened, inhaled the scents, then moved back outside.

She was sorely missing Mbia's knife, trying to coax a fire out of damp wood with the _ba _and a stone from within the cave. Every time she got sparks, they failed to catch onto the wood and would die. She rubbed and breathed on the wood to try to dry it, finally managing a fire after several tries. She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, keeping warm by staying small. The firelight revealed nothing special about this cave; the walls were hard stone that had been worked with tools. The path was beaten solid, all the way to where the light couldn't reach.

This was the mine that her father had found with the clan. There were diamonds much further in, she knew. They were the form of currency that the _Kure Iradandaanya _could trade with the outside world for the things they needed, like the watch on her wrist. She checked it, making sure it still worked by making it flash and beep again. It had been through a lot in just a couple days, and most technology was fairly fragile. The watch had endured though, and that was what mattered to her.

She looked over at the cave and found that she could not see two feet beyond the sheets of rain coming down, and water was pouring down off the mouth of the cave in waves. It was possible that the cave would not be dry for very long, but she would make due if the water came in.

The world outside darkened, but the rain did not stop. She felt hungry, but she could ignore it. Often times, she would fail in hunts and go several days without meat, one night wouldn't kill her. She picked at her broken nails to even them out a bit more, then used a small coarse stone to shape them back to points. They ended up small, but they had the desired look to them and she tossed the stone down into the darkness. It clattered and echoed down deep within. Further on is where her father had led a _Paya_, forcing him into _jedhin jedhin_ by taking away the space to be able to use his other weapons. She wouldn't have the chance to repeat that with Torodondodondo; the same trick did not work twice on a _Paya_.

Diwizama shifted and laid down on her side, wincing, but didn't move. There wasn't any part of her that didn't hurt, so turning over to find a comfortable position was pointless. She looked into the fire, remembering the last one that she had shared with her mother. She often felt alone, but now, in this cave especially, cold and sore, she was reminded of how she was the very last of her clan. Even if she survived, trying to find a mate would be difficult, as it had been in the previous years. The other tribes did not agree with what she was, and the rest of them were far too modern. She was one of few dying breeds; the world had stolen the culture out of nearly everyone else.

Her fingers lightly rubbed the ground as her mind wandered. She began to doze and imagine what her final moments would be like. Her mind whirled with glorious images of battle; _bas _clashing, sparks flying, blood covering her body, fighting with every last bit of strength, the last breath of air in her lungs in the light of a high sun. It would be a good death. Her heavy lids began to slowly close.

She jolted when she heard a noise and looked up. She didn't see anything at first but it had sounded like something crashing through the trees. A shape came forward in the rain. Broad shoulders parted the sheer veil of water that cascaded from the mouth of the cave. Diwizama quickly moved up, kneeling on one knee with her hand fisted on her chest. The _Paya_ paused, looking her over then bent down and lightly put on the ground the skull of the river hog she had killed the previous day.

She looked at it, then at him, standing there watching silently, water dripping from the ends of his dreads. When she made no immediate movement, he backed away a small distance before turning.

"_Master_," she called to him and he paused, his wounded shoulder towards her. He gazed at her silently again, head slightly tilted, "_Master… cold_," cold was a word they knew well, it was the greatest complaint that her clan had learned from the masks of the fallen. She moved back, offering him the other side of her fire. He made only a slight movement of his head. He looked back out to the rain, staring at it for a long time, before turning and looking at her again. He stepped forward, moving closer to the fire and sat down. They both stayed two _ba _lengths away from each other.

After a moment in silence, Diwizama shifted to sit in a more comfortable position, but got a sudden look from Torodondodondo, so resumed kneeling with her arm to her chest. He slowly looked back at the fire and a minute passed. Diwizama could feel her bent leg beginning to cramp and she shifted to sit again, but he looked up sharply at her again. She pressed her teeth hard together, feeling the tickling sensation of her leg beginning to fall asleep. After a few minutes more of him staring at the fire she slowly moved to sit, being cautious, hoping he wouldn't see. His head jerked up at her again and she shot back up to kneeling.

He clicked rapidly and Diwizama gave him an incredulous look. He was laughing. He was _teasing_ her. She pursed her lips and plopped down on the ground hard, which sent a jolt of pain up her body. She held her breath, then exhaled slowly. He tilted his head, the fire giving a beautiful luster to his mask. She eyed him, wondering what he was thinking, but also admiring him. He tilted his head in her direction and spoke. She almost missed what he said out of surprise.

"_Speak again_."

She blinked for a moment, then looked down wondering what to say, "_bad bloods… hurt master… much?_"

Torodondodondo didn't react at first, before giving a single shake of his head. She didn't think that they had. They had been humans, untrained in fighting the _Payas_. She had trained her whole life, and though she had only hunted twice, she knew far better than anyone what they could do, and what they could take.

Torodondodondo reached over, moving the hog skull closer to her, "_yours,_" he said and she bowed before hooking an eye socket with her index finger and sliding it closer, moving it to her side of the fire. She eased back to her sitting position, stroking the brow of the hog before looking over at the _Paya_ again. She could hardly believe she was sharing her fire with one of her gods. She could barely take her eyes off of him, staring except for when he noticed her, and she would look away. The fire had a beautiful effect on his pale skin, making the dark stripes even darker, and the pale parts orange, making him look very much like the tigers she had read about and seen pictures of in her books.

She studied him, the patterns on his skin, his hands resting on his knees, where she noticed another weapon like the wristblades was strapped against. She looked along his wounded chest, noted how it was healing, looked at the bluish-blackened wounds where they were cauterized. She looked at his dreads, the gold ornaments around them, and his crest. He was younger than she originally thought, maybe just a bit older than her by a decade or so.

He huffed and she flinched, realizing she was staring again and looked away, "_what do you see?_" he asked and she looked at him again.

"_Great warrior,_" she answered, she knew he was being simple with his words on purpose, knowing that she had a very limited vocabulary, "_skilled… young skilled,_" she hummed, racking her mind for the right word she needed. He rattled contemplatively. She gave up and her shoulders sag, clicking apologetically, and received a short single click in response. He was impressed with her nonetheless.

He didn't look away from her this time, his mask stayed fixed, facing her directly. She moved a small pile of wood around so that the damp sides faced the fire to dry.

"_Name?_" Diwizama looked at him and shook her head. Her name did not translate into the language of the _Payas_. They did not perceive color, nor could they see the moon. He shifted back, tilting his head but didn't push it. He looked back to the fire without offering his. Diwizama looked at him for a moment before moving one of the pieces of wood onto the fire and settling back, pulling her knees to her chest.

"_Why do you hunt_?"

The woman looked over at the _Paya_ confused by his question for a moment. Her lips closed and she swallowed, "_for honor. We chosen. The Payas hunt us, we make hunt… good for Payas. We hunt Payas back. We make best trophies. Payas honor us, we honor Payas. Honorable deaths._"

Torodondodondo was very silent, and didn't move. Diwizama set her jaw, sitting straight up straight, "_I proud to hunt you. I honored to die by you._"

Torodondodondo lowered his head; it was a sign of acknowledgement that made Diwizama's heart sing.

"_Rest, brave warrior, tomorrow, I will show you honor._"

Diwizama felt so light, she was sure that she would never sleep but she lowered her head to him, then turned and laid down by the fire. She looked at the flames, watching the _Paya_ move a piece of wood to it. She would serve out her purpose. She had been deemed worthy prey by Torodondodondo; he would give her an honorable death, or grant her another century of life.

She could not hold back the smile that parted her lips.


	10. Demise

She wasn't sure how she managed to fall asleep, but her eyes opened instantly to a strong push of her shoulder. She lifted her head, looking at Torodondodondo's receding figure heading to the mouth of the cave and stood just at the threshold. Diwizama pushed herself up, feeling the cumulative soreness from the past two days. She stretched, parts of her back cracking, followed by her neck. She looked at the remnants of the fire, and quickly she tore off the scabs of the wounds on her shoulders, violently clawing at the one on her back to make sure it was entirely removed. She grabbed fistfuls of ash and pressed them into the wounds, keeping her whines of pain to herself. Then she was up. Her feet tapped quietly on the hardened earth, approaching Torodonodondo, who turned when he saw her coming and headed out into the jungle.

The air was thick with mist. Her toes dug deep into the moist soil. The sun was a bright golden color, coming in through the trees, angled down away from the east. She padded quietly behind the _Paya_, listening to the dead silence that they passed through. She kept aware of her surroundings, but could hardly keep her eyes off the powerful back of the one leading her to her end. She pondered on the old scar there, and resisted the urge to reach out and just feel that he was real.

The trees here were dense, and the foliage around was thick, often the best route to take required Torodondodondo to slip sideways between two trunks. She followed, but was thin enough to make it through facing forward. She wasn't sure where he was leading her, or what he was looking for. She knew this area well; there were many places that could tip the advantage to either side.

She squinted as they stepped into a patch of bright sunlight. She looked at the sky, holding a hand to shadow her eyes. Torodondodondo clicked at her and she stopped, watching him go ahead towards the trees. He turned after several paces and faced her. She glanced around as her heart began to pound. This place was open, with low bush, wide enough five elephants could stand about comfortably.

"_Choose your weapon,_" he said and waited. She took her _ba_ from her waist, touched it to her brow reverently, then extended it. The _Paya_ responded by moving his hand along his body. Diwizama watched, enthralled, as pieces of armor fell away to the ground. He removed his guns and tossed them away, took off his wristblades from both arms and dropped them to the ground. He stood for a moment regarding his opponent, then lifted his hand to his mask.

A small burst of vapor came from the first, then second tube he detached from the mask. He pressed his hands against both sides of his mask, and with only a little resistance, it came away from his face. He slowly lowered it, holding it to his side in one hand. His four mandibles clicked together quietly as he looked at her through golden eyes. Parallel scars raked across his crest, extending down to the upper part of his face where they were deep; one of his brows was split wide open. These were old wounds, as many of them were.

Diwizama dropped instantly to her knee, planting the end of her _ba_ into the ground, both hands wrapped tightly around the shaft, "_you honor me, master, thank you._"

Torodondodondo tossed aside the mask and removed his own _ba_ from his back, extending it. He rattled a command and Diwizama obeyed, standing up, feet apart shoulders squared back. The _Paya_, her god, looked upon her with regard, and she saw no malice in his eyes. Yes, he would kill her, but not out of rage, or even because she was prey, but because she was a challenge. Only an air of calm settled around him. He flexed his fingers against his weapon, then curled them tightly around the metal.

"_Die well this day,_" he said and Diwizama's chest swelled with pride, "_remember the gods' practice._"

"_Hma'mi-de,_" Diwizama finished the prayer with a small bow of her head. The air became tense along with her body. Her knees bent and her arms moved away from her body. Torodondodondo did the same, mirroring her movements. His mandibles flared silently, revealing the small sharp teeth of his closed mouth. Diwizama bared her teeth in turn. She stepped to her right, spear moving diagonally across her body, gripped by both hands.

Torodondodondo moved as well, keeping her the same distance away from him at all times. He rattled a challenge over and over, trying to goad her into the first move. She looked at his body, the wounds there on his side and shoulder, and the one shallow but painful one on his collar. These would be sensitive to the touch, weak spots. He was surely doing the same thing to her, aware of her injured leg and shoulder, which had wounds from both he and Mbia. She would be careful to not allow him near the latter as it was the most painful.

His rattling ceased abruptly, he made a hissing noise, then his mandibles flared and his deafening roar shattered the silence. Diwizama did not flinch, but opened her mouth and let out her own shrill battle cry. She ran forward, swinging her _ba_ with all her might. He easily parried the blow and pain shot instantly up her arms, still raw from the previous days' trials.

She didn't stay put, trying her best to read his movements by watching his muscles move under his skin, where they flexed and bulged. She scrambled back quickly, his _ba_ cutting harshly through the leaves where her legs had been, and she raised her spear to strike his head. He ducked and the two moved away from each other. She would have to change her tactics, do the unexpected, or this fight would end the same way it had before the humans had interrupted.

She slipped her _ba _up so that both hands were gripping the spear just above the blade on one of the ends. She inhaled a breath, and moved forward. She shifted her weight back as Torodondodondo moved as well, advancing on her. He stepped forward, feinting a swing but drawing his _ba_ back for a stab towards her stomach. She curved her body away from the point, and pivoted on the balls of her feet to spin in a circle, swinging her spear around, once high, then spinning again and dropping down, swinging low.

She was rewarded with a painful roar and Torodondodondo moved away from her. She looked up to see where she struck, only to find that she had just grazed his collarbone, and had missed his ankles completely. He was roaring angrily though, favoring the new wound for just a moment. She didn't understand why, it was barely a scratch, though it had made it past his quick reflexes. Quickly his show of weakness dissipated and he took his _ba_ in both hands again. He would not fall for that again.

He charged forward, Diwizama, preparing herself for an upwards blow, but was caught by surprise with a hard smack to her wounded leg. The pain shot through her entire thigh and she buckled, dropping to her knee, then tumbling backwards to avoid his downward stab. She stood, limping slightly as she caught her balance and he was on her in an instant. Sparks flew as the two _ba_ repeatedly smacked at each other. A few seconds of flurrying blows, blocking and attacking to try to draw blood.

Her body felt as if the fight had gone for hours, but the position of the shadows had barely changed. She was heaving, her chest aching with each intake of air. She backed away from him until her back hit a tree and watched him move to the side, then straight for her. His _ba _switched hands in an instant, and a mid-height swing turned into an upper jab, aiming right for her throat. She waited until the last second, then ducked, rolling past him as the end of his spear dug deep into the tree as easily as mud.

She smacked her _ba_ against the back of his calves, earning a roar and he turned wrenching his _ba_ from the tree easily much to her dismay. He smacked his _ba _against hers with enough force to send it flying out of her hands, stabbing into the earth at a low angel. She backed quickly away from him, looking at her weapon, knowing that if she ran for it she would die, but without it she would fare farworse.

He moved towards her without hesitation. She watched him approach out of wide eyes, then they closed, opening again determined. She bent her knees and spread her arms as if welcoming his final blow. He had his _ba_ ready to deliver it. She waited until he was close enough to swing and moved forward again. He expected the same trick from her that she had done to Mbia by the way she moved, and swung his ba down towards the side of his leg, defending his dagger, but this time she threw her body forward rather than to the side, and crashed through his legs. He fell forward on his hands and knees, grunting and shaking his head in surprise, then the full force of her body crashed into his side, shoulder digging deep into the wounded and bruised flesh. He rolled over, claws digging the earth and legs kicking for traction to roll back to his feet.

He roared in pain. A small foot on his collar bone was applying enough pressure to cause his body to spasm in a single shock. His golden eyes opened, looking up at the woman, his black dagger in her hand, raised, poised for the final strike. He closed his eyes for a moment, opening them again. She could see he was ready for death. He could see she was honored to give him a noble one. The blade lifted the breadth of a hair ready to descend.

Beeping. Diwizama froze. The painful weight on Torodondodondo's collarbone was removed and his muscles relaxed. The woman was looking at the black device on her wrist. Its small red light was flashing furiously, chirping its warning. She took off like a bolt, running to the trees, grabbing her _ba_ as she passed, leaving Torodondodondo behind without a thought.

Through the jungle she ran, unable to feel the pain, the aches and the wounds of her body as she leapt over bush and branch. Animals scattered from before her, startled by her sudden appearance and quick departure. She had never run so fast in her life. Not when she was being trained, not when hunting for food, not when the _Payas_ were hunting her. This was not a matter of survival. East she went, towards the rising sun, the shadows creeping slowly forward, encouraging her to her destination. She could taste blood in the back of her throat, her breathing was hoarse, and even the adrenaline could not fight off the pain of her exertion.

Finally she stopped dead in her tracks. Her sides were cramped, her legs twitched involuntarily, her breathing was heavy and deafening. Her eyes were wide. Her lips were parted. Her breathing slowed. Her village. Black suited men were everywhere. Men with white sweat-stained shirts were moving through the huts. Men in blue suits that covered their bodies, and plastic gloves covering their hands were coming out of her home. In their grasp, the gifts of the _Payas_. Though they were delicate with them, their touches were cold and unfeeling.

For several agonizing seconds, she watched them defile the sacred relics. Putting them in black foam in black cases and closing them away from the light, then lift them away and move them to a pile of similar cases. One of the men in blue came out with an artifact, and Diwizama's heart stopped. It was a mask. The world around her was inaudible past the beating of her heart, keeping time with the watch's alarm. Even the leaves seemed to cease to move as she lifted her hand. Her teeth gnashed together before parting in a cry; a cry of agony, pain, rage, horror, and sorrow. Her arm swung gracefully over her head. Fingers released the warm metal. The air whistled through the points of the _ba. _Blood sprayed through the air and dyed crimson the blue suit. The man was pinned to the side of her hut. His dark blood ran down over the bright red symbol he had been pierced onto. The mask he held fell to the ground.

Out she ran from the forest, Tordondodondo's knife in hand. The second man to die went down without knowing she was coming. The third knew, but reacted far too slowly. She dodged and weaved as bullets began to fly around her, shattering the huts she moved to, to take refuge behind. She crashed through the wall and stabbed the blade into the white-shirted man there and rushed out. The dagger cut cleanly through a gun as if it was cloth, and the wielder's throat did not manage any better. She whirled around the dying man as he gurgled on his blood, fisting her hand into his shirt and using him as a shield against the oncoming bullets. She threw his body at one of the approaching men, throwing him off balance as he moved to avoid it, and met the blade of the dagger, going straight through his chest.

There was a yell and the bullets stopped, just as she turned and killed the man next to his friend. Her eyes looked around for the other armed men and she saw one she recognized. Standing by the cases, was the man, Richards, a small handgun in his hand, pointed at the ground. She pursed her lips, seeing red as her muscles bulged. She got only one step forward before she was grabbed. The metal of the dagger flashed as she flipped around, ready to remove the offending hand but then there was another. Both of her wrists were seized, and her shoulders and one hand pulled violently on her tresses.

She growled and snarled, screamed and cursed, fought and writhed, but it was to no avail, she had taken far too much of a toll on her body to fight against the hands that seized her and wrestled Torodondodondo's dagger away from her. She was forced forward, despite all that she tried to get free. Even though she managed to free her wrist or shoulder, there were three other hands digging painfully into her skin. She was forced down, her knees smacking painfully to the ground and she winced as pain went through her weakened leg. Her tresses were pulled down, forcing her to look up at Richards, who still held the gun.

"Well hello there Diwizama," he said, his pleasant words laced with venom, "glad you could join us," he reached back and lightly tapped the black cases behind him and she jerked forward, "looks like you were keeping things from us young lady."

"Those are not yours to have!" she spat.

"Nor are they yours really," he growled and bent down, taking her chin roughly in his hand turning her face from one side to the other. She stared into his eyes, defiant and she spat in his face. He flinched and let her go, wiping the saliva off on his sleeve, "but they belong more in our hands than in yours. I mean, do you know how easy it was to find and break into that safe of yours?"

The watch on her wrist was silenced then removed, tossed over to Richards who caught it and looked it over, "though kudos for having at least this much foresight."

"I will kill you!" she screamed and she felt a hard smack to her head.

"Easy Chuck," Richards said and looked down at her as she tried to focus again, "do you even know what it is that you have here? How much power?" Richards gently touched one of the cases, petting it, "do you even know what it is that possesses this technology?

"In 1897 a team of commandoes goes into Val Verde on a rescue mission," Diwizama's eyes watched Richards as he began to pace back and forth in front of the black cases, " They find skinned and decapitated bodies of a Special Forces unit hanging from the trees in the jungle. The team is picked off one by one in a matter of days, with the only survivor defeating the thing in hand-to-hand combat before it detonated a bomb that took out miles of jungle. 1997, the same thing happens in Los Angeles during a drug war but the police officer who was targeted by the hunter disables the bomb and forced the aliens to leave. 2004, an expedition goes to the arctic for an archeological dig. They encounter within a pyramid they discovered the same extraterrestrials with such advanced technology that their _ancient_ weaponry far outclassed any firearm that the human race has ever concocted. Not long after the retreating aliens crashed back to earth and caused such devastation that a nuclear strike was ordered on a small town in Colorado to contain the damages.

"Two years later a whole _party_ of these things goes down to Columbia and slaughters a bunch of gurrilla soldiers, and an entire military base. These things are killers, Diwizama. They hunt humans for sport. The company I work for, Yutani, wants to even the playing field for when these hunting trips turn into all out war" Richards turned sharply towards the dark-skinned woman glaring at him, "they're not some gods who have your best interest at heart, do you understand? They will slaughter everyone if they feel so inclined. _Everyone._"

"You don't know of what you speak," she hissed, "the _Payas_ are more honorable than any human I've met outside of the _Kure Iradandaanya_. You are just greedy, you want their weapons to propagate more war, cause more pointless deaths and run down this path of dishonor. This will kill you, agent Richards, you are going to die."

Richards thinned his lips and sighed, "I guess there's no reasoning with someone like you," he said and she saw him flick the safety off of the gun with his thumb.

"Cameron," came a voice and Richards paused, looking over. Charles was suddenly on the ground in front of Diwizama, but he was not between her and Richards. He faced her, moving his fingers against her fresh wounds, "my god, you've been fighting one haven't you?" Diwizama saw the light shine in the eyes of the men and felt sick.

"We have a live one!" yelled Richards, and Diwizama could hear movement behind her, rushing feet, small orders here and there, calls for ammo, the movement of bullet chambers.

"I want darts in every gun! We want this one alive!" Richards called, turning his back to Diwizama. Her eyes flashed and she jolted forward, shoving past Charles and wrenching free of the surprised hands. She was caught by the other agent, his arms wrapping around her torso and lifting her feet from the ground before throwing her back to the dirt. She looked up to the barrel of a gun, up at Richards. He smiled.

He jolted suddenly, eyes wide. Blood came up out of his mouth. His body spasmed as he was lifted from the ground. Glimmering light rippled over the surface of the large hunter, his mask gleaming in the sun as his voice crackled and growled, and Richards gravelly voice called out from behind the mask, "we have a live one!"

"Bogey!" yelled Charles as he dropped Diwizama and grabbed his gun. She whipped around and grabbed his wrist, her sharp teeth latching onto the nape of his neck and tearing violently. He fired repeatedly into the air, a sound that was echoed by many around her. She wrestled the man, hearing the sounds of carnage behind her. She fought him to the ground and fought and chewed until Charles ceased moving. She spat out his blood, mixing with the pool that was gushing onto the ground beneath him. She picked up the gun he had and turned, pointing it at one of the men firing on Torodondodondo. She fired several times but hit only once, throwing the weapon aside and moved to her hut.

She heard a loud growl and looked over at Torodondodondo. Her hands lifted, meeting warm metal and hearing the musical sound of the _ba_ extending to its full length in her hand. The song the spear made as it twirled and sliced through the air was drowned out by the sharp sounds of Torodondodondo's guns throwing their blue fire, shattering many men in a blazing demise. He was struck once with a small dart, ripping it out immediately and backing up to the safety of the hut where the darts weren't powerful enough to penetrate. He knew what they would do to him.

Diwizama saw him studying his surroundings for what to do next. She looked over at him then at the men. She clenched her jaw and ran straight forward, drawing their fire. This gave Torodondodondo the opening he needed. Blue fire erupted around her as she ran. The old dry huts caught ablaze easily. Her feet pounded the ground as she charged forward, hearing the sounds of death and destruction as gunfire chaotically whirled around her. The men were in disarray unsure of what to do; those who tried to take charge were often killed in mere seconds. She made it all the way to the other side of the village and turned, _ba_ ready. With Torodondodondo drawing their fire now, she began to take them down from behind.

When she and Torodondodondo met in the middle of the village, they turned with their backs to each other for a moment, looking around. The amount of fire was likely blinding the _Paya _to the heat of the men, but it didn't stop him. He shot forward again, blue fire burning through the huts and the men, blades slicing them to pieces. Diwizama pushed her spear through a downed man and removed it, smacking it against the head of another and cutting his cheek open before ending him.

The two fought like demons, and after two minutes of hell, everything finally went silent. Diwizama fell to knee panting heavily, looking at the bodies that were strewn over the ground. She turned, looking over at Torodondodondo. The _Paya's_ mask moved slowly from side to side, surveying the area. He stepped forward, blood and mud pooling through his toes, and froze, his head turning sharply to her, remembering that she was there. She gritted her teeth, standing painfully and turned, hands on her spear. He body was done, exhausted, but she was ready to fight him again for that honorable death. He tilted his head, his guns folding onto his back. He turned his body to her, stepping forward slowly. She swallowed hard, feeling the sting in her throat.

He cocked his head to the other side, looking her over, then around, then back at her. He was quiet for a moment before he spoke in a gravelly voice that sounded like hers, "five minutes head start," Diwizama blinked in surprise as he turned, jogging away into the jungle. The young woman watched him go, and slowly lowered her _ba_. She looked around her, at the carnage, at the destruction of her village, then over to her home. She walked forward to the black cases, looking at them. Her eye caught on a silver sheen and she moved over, dropping to her knees and gently brushing her fingers against the mask.

"Nzereme," she said, her voice heavy with regret. She lifted the mask out of the mud, wiping it clean and set it in her lap. She heaved, feeling her eyes burn as she looked over at her burning village. She realized again, how alone she was, but now also realized that alone she was not enough to protect the gifts of the _Paya._ She was the last, and that was it. This was the final hunt. She moved over to the cases, opening one, then another until she found what she was looking for.

She turned and slid down to the ground, setting the wrist device on her lap and opening the latch. Small red symbols flashed up at her, lighting up the skin of her hand which stroked the edge of the warm metal. She sighed heavily, moving her hands again to the mask and looking into the face of the hunter. She ran her fingers gently against it, then turned the mask over, looking at the interior workings and the back of the eyes, and gently slipped it on.


	11. Honor the Fallen

A harsh rough sound assaulted his ears as he stepped off his ship. The world around was a mixture of shades of blue, from light to near black. He switched through a few visions that turned the world orange, then green, which he changed quickly to one that made it shades of gray before returning to the blue vision. He stepped down, turning to look at his ship as the ramp closed and small white lines of moved along it. Parts of the ship were nearly white in color, but were slowly fading to orange. He turned away from his ship, rattling in pleasure, then looking down at his wrist. He flipped open the shield of the blue wrist device and touched a couple of buttons with his bright orange finger. The same white lines moved along his skin and he flipped the device closed.

He faced the jungle again. The noises of the jungle sounded dulled, like under water, through a deep thrumming noise. He headed into the jungle at a brisk pace, moving quickly into the trees with a phenomenal leap. The branches creaked and cracked as he ran along them, his weight simply too much for them, as a few branches would fall from beneath him and force him to quickly move on. He paused and crouched, setting his bright hand against the blue branch he rested on. A creature of similar color was ahead. He zoomed up onto it, a small triangle appearing in his vision, locking onto the creature and he studied it. The dulled whirring of his gun added to the low thrum, then it whirled again and clicked, the triangle disappeared. The creature was a small quadruped, its head down in the blue brush beneath its colorful body.

He quietly moved through the branches towards it, keeping close to the thick trunks. Once he was above the animal, he studied it for a while, switching to a black and white vision for just a moment and zooming on the creature's belly. His vision returned to blue focused on the orange and red creature. He then descended onto it, a loud metallic sound slicing the air as his wristblades dug deep into the animal's back. It made a shrill painful cry, but it was short, and was soon silent. He removed his wristblades from the animal and swung them, the bright blood flying off of the blue weapons, before they retracted with the same metallic noise.

He lifted the animal up, the beast only about as large as his torso and looked it over. He tied it to a tree and cleaned it, then skinned it. There were two loud hisses, then he removed his mask, setting it down gently where it could see him as he cut a piece of meat from the animal and began to eat it, looking around, mandibles flicking out wildly as he feasted. One of these was shorter than its partners, and bent at an odd angle. He reached forward towards the animal's head, lifting it and turning it from side to side before letting it go. After another piece of meat, he reached for his mask, the bright orange hand obscuring the vision for a moment before it was neatly fit back on.

He looked over at the animal whose color was beginning to fade, then jumped up into the trees again. He moved deftly through the forest, pausing to investigate the bright orange colors he saw appear in his vision, but always moved on when it proved to just be another small animal. This lasted for several minutes, and the blue colors began to brighten slightly, and the noises died down for just a while, then started back up again with a vengeance.

He rattled his annoyance and shook his head, the mass of colors blending together blindingly before settling again. He heard loud crashes through the trees and moved towards them, jumping from branch to branch and finding another animal. This one was slightly larger than the ones he had previously been seeing, and behind it, many others of similar shape were wandering around the blue foliage. His vision switched to where the plants were purple rather than blue, and the many colors of the animals changed to just shades of orange, but he saw with much better detail.

A few of the animal had gently curved horns in a 'v' shape on its head, only about as long as his forearm. They all went stock still when he got closer to them, narrow heads lifted and looking around, but couldn't see him. These weren't worth his time, and he moved on, causing the group to scatter. He moved through the trees for a long time, pausing every now and then to survey the area and switch visions.

He rattled in frustration, moving through more trees, and then paused. In his vision, an orange bipedal figure stood up among the bushes, with several others like it crouched around. The triangle focused on the mass of color and he zoomed up to it, then zoomed back and turned away. The shape was a primate, but not the kind he was looking for. He grunted and moved through the trees again, changing directions, heading in a straight line. Eventually he stopped and turned, looking at the whole forest. He slid down to sit against the tree, breathing evenly.

He was still for a long while, just looking back and forth at sounds that changed around him. His rest soon ended and he was up again and moving. His search was futile; he found nearly every animal that could live in this place, but not the one he wanted. He was bored, killing a few animals here and there for pelts and skulls that looked decent enough for decoration.

While cleaning another kill such as this, with a small sharp-toothed creature, he heard a noise and turned suddenly, looking along the treeline for movement but saw none. He clicked curiously, activating his cloak again, and looking back to the trees. He moved slowly forward, silent as the still air around him. He inspected where the sound had come from, switching visions but finding nothing.

He stepped back, growling in disappointment, when suddenly his face hit the ground. He grunted and lifted up standing erect and turning, watching a receding body of orange go back into the blue foliage. He moved after it, crashing through the vegetation, wristblades extending. He caught up to the body quickly and swung at its head. It ducked down, whipping around with an extended pair of its own wristblades. He didn't even flinch as bright blood appeared on the weapon held in the hands of the long-bodied biped.

He swung his blades again, advancing as it retreated. His vision switched to the purple and orange, getting the human's features in detail and gave a half-second of pause. The female took that opportunity and lunged forward with the wristblades, slicing down at his stomach earning a small grunt as he retreated just a step. She then dashed back into the trees.

He moved forward after her, jumping into the trees, following the faded trail of footprints on the earth. These disappeared suddenly and he stopped, looking at the final set of prints as they faded from orange to purple. He went dead silent and looked around the bush, an orange line slowly flipping around his vision, waiting for a target. His vision lifted to the branches around him and looked for body heat. When he found nothing, he jumped down, moving to where the footprints had been and bending close, running his fingers along the depressed earth where he could barely see it.

He was suddenly struck in his chest by the long purple form of a _ba_, right beneath his collarbone, dangerously near his neck. He roared, stumbling back and grabbing the shaft, pulling it out and looking at the blood on the end and the small handprint on the shaft. He rattled in confusion and looked over his shoulder where his _ba_ had been. He was holding it. He looked up at a flash of orange and retracted the _ba_, putting it back on his back and running after the female. He caught her form running in the opposite direction and turned on his toes to chase after her, but then she crossed behind him.

He stayed still, watching her move around him in a circle, rattling then roaring at her as she disappeared behind foliage again. He lifted up a disk, extending several arms of long sharp metal and he threw it. The weapon sliced easily through the trees in a wide arch, deep enough that a few of them began to fall and crash down to earth. He caught the weapon and threw it again, felling more trees, taking away her hiding spots. He caught it again, ready to throw it but roared in pain and turned. More of his blood was on her wristblades, and a heavy object fell to the ground. He glanced down at his necklace and back up at the female who was running into the bush again.

He lifted his arm and one of the wristblades shot from the bracer. A shrill cry broke the air as the figure faltered to the ground, holding her shoulder before continuing her retreat to the forest and vanishing again. She did not reappear, and he hurried over to look for blood. He found it easily. From the side of his vision, a small kit appeared and he opened it up. Rattling in satisfaction he removed a syringe and gathered the blood into it. He did this to the various spots he found until the syringe was half full. He inserted the needle into the side of his wrist device, then opened the shield and touched a few of the buttons as they flashed bright symbols at him.

He cycled through his visions to the new one he created, and found a bright trail of orange among a new entirely green background. He closed the shielding and followed. This time, where the prints disappeared, he found the trail again in the trees easily. He was close on her trail, though it wove and zigzagged erratically in no visible pattern.

He swung from a branch, landing on another then freezing. He heard voices through the hum of his mask. He cocked his head, a bar appearing in the side of his vision and a long red line flared and retracted with the words.

"_Damn poachers,_" said the voice and he turned, changing his vision back to heat detection and zooming in to the direction the voices were coming from.

"_I don't believe this is a poacher's doing,_" said the other voice. A small sliver of orange appeared through the blue foliage. He quietly moved to get a better angle on them. Two more humans, males, inspecting one of his earlier kills; a hooved animal whose tusked skull was on his belt. The two were looking over it carefully, pointing at where the head had been and the wounds from his weapon.

He zoomed in to the things he saw on their shoulders, and identified them as weapons. He looked to his side at where the trail of the female was. It would not go away so soon. He moved closer, slowly and silently. He bent low on the branch above the two men, looking down at them. He leaned forward, one hand securely on the branch as he lowered himself down. The two upside down men continued to speak to each other about what to do.

"_We're not even supposed to be here anyway mate,_" said the one young man, moving his weapon from his shoulder and holding it in his hands, "_this place belongs to that one tribe the others warned us about_."

"_A dying breed, there's only one woman left. She won't find us. Besides, the hunting here is good. I'm sure she'd appreciate if we took care of her poacher problem._"

The other male looked over at his younger companion when he didn't respond, "_Jones? Bloody-!_" the young man dropped his gun, and fell, his blood on the wristblade. The _Paya_ dropped down and the white lines of his cloak ran over his flesh. The older male's face focused suddenly on him, fumbling with his gun. The moment it was in his hands, a bright white light blew a hole through his chest. The male stood for a second before collapsing on the ground by his partner.

The _Paya_ bent down, lifting the head of the older male, removing the circular helmet-like shape from his head to better inspect the skull. He dropped it with a sudden roar, looking at his side where deep wounds gushed bright yellow blood. He looked up to so see the female again, her wristblades now on her other arm, covered in his blood all the way to her hand. Something important was cut in him. The blades could not have gone that far into his body without severing _something._

"_Trespassers will die_," she said, looking at the two fallen males. He roared and lunged forward, quickly correcting himself when she ducked out of view. He changed his vision back to the orange and looked around for her. She glowed brightly against the foliage, facing him, he reached back and grabbed his _ba_, extending and throwing it in the same fluid motion. The female moved only slightly to avoid the dangerous weapon, which crashed into the leaves and charged forward. He lifted his one wristblade and struck against hers, causing her to nearly fall to the ground, but she recovered and turned her falter into an upwards swing, drawing blood along his chest.

He swung his blade twice, back-handed and then forward again, and she hopped away with each movement. Once she was past one of the trees she vanished behind it. He rounded the tree, carving a deep trench in the wood and looking at her trail which went further into the forest. He chased after her again, realizing they were heading in the direction of his ship. He began to move faster, not so careful, making much noise as he went. Her path was straight compared to the other she had made previously. He stopped, looking at the trail and then back the direction he had come from. He backed up and got into the trees, staring at the trail before switching to his primary vision.

He took the moment to look at the wound in his stomach. He removed his mask again and turned it towards him. The vision switched to black and white, and stayed for a moment, looking at the _Paya's_ body. There was a long line of darkness, and one large patch of it. He put his mask back on and symbols appeared all along the screen over various parts of the image he had taken. He growled, the kit appearing again, opening up in front of him on the branch. He used his wristblade to cut himself open, roaring in pain. More blood spilled out onto the branch and he heaved heavily. He reached for a small tube in the kit. It turned a bright color as it turned on and whirled. He looked down at his opened stomach, taking a heavy breath before pressing the device to where the internal bleeding was coming from. He roared again, several times as he closed the many wounds. He moved his hand and dropped the metal device into the kit, heaving, leaning heavily against his hand.

He then opened a metal dish, a ring of white appearing in the center of it. He looked around, tearing bark from the tree and putting it into the dish, he even sacrificed some of the ornaments from his dreads and a tiny skull from his necklace, crushing it to pieces. He removed a small cylinder from the kit and poured a green liquid into it that quickly heated up to orange, then red and moving up to white. He waited for a moment as it all turned into a white liquid, then cooled down to a pink jelly. He took a small metal stick and took some of the jelly. His roars were deafening as he put the jelly on the wound he had made on himself, then onto the entry wound of the wristblades.

His rattle expressed pain and anger, dropping the metal stick into the kit and lifting a large syringe full of black liquid. A small stream of this came from the tip of the needle. He took another heavy breath and placed the needle into the flesh of his chest above his heart. The entire liquid shot into his system, and his roar of pain echoed through the trees.

It took a moment for his hoarse breathing to go back to normal, inaudible to the mask, and he packed up the kit and it vanished from his vision. He looked at his hand, flexing his fingers and retracting the single wristblade. His vision changed immediately back to orange, and he looked down at the trail on the ground. Through the branches he followed it, moving to the side so that he was several feet away. They led him into a small space between thick growing trees. He did not enter, staying behind and surveying the area. He moved quietly around the space, keeping to the trees, keeping his eyes on the small clearing.

He paused when he saw a dully glowing orange. He crept towards it, seeing where it was crouched under some bushes. He moved overhead of it then he extended his blade and dropped down, raising his hand for a powerful swing. The blade stopped just short of the orange body. His vision tilted and changed to the purple. The bright orange body in front of him was small, standing against the tree looking up at him, hands held behind its back. It had no fear, even for one as young as it was.

He cycled back to the orange vision, seeing its dully glowing body. This young one was related to the one he sought. He clicked curiously, reaching for it and its hands moved suddenly, and his _ba_ was pointed at his face. He stepped back, tilting his head again. Still, it showed no fear.

He held out his hand to receive the spear, but the young one did not move. He moved his hand to take it from her, but then a flash appeared in his vision and he drew back his arm, roaring in pain. The female pushed the young one down into the bushes, and fled again into the small clearing. He followed her, his left arm dripping with blood where the wristblades had cut clean through his wrist device. Bright light suddenly blinded him as fires rose forth out of the bushes around the clearing.

He extended his wristblade, swinging it, trying to find the woman. He roared and whirled, more and more of his blood spraying onto the ground. He flipped around, swinging his blade, roared in pain. The next time he flipped around he dropped to his knee and swung his blade where his front had been. A scream of pain was his reward. His hand grabbed at the air until he felt a warm body. He lifted and threw it at the bright light, then ran past it.

His vision suddenly cleared and he saw his target lying on the ground. She stood up, wristblades ready in one hand, the detached wristblade from his gauntlet held like a knife in the other. Heat vision showed that she was bleeding profusely from a stomach wound. He roared at her and she roared back. She charged at him, wristblades raised, aiming for his now unprotected neck. He parried the blow, using a backwards push to throw her to the ground. She scrambled up, dropping the wristblade and favoring her wound.

He picked up the blade and reattached it to his gauntlet, flexing then curling his fingers. She moved her arm and swung without hesitation, striking at him again and again. Her ferocity was enough that he moved backwards; she didn't even give him time to counter. He grunted and in the corner of his vision saw that she was herding him back into the flames. He took a risk, stepping forward and taking a hard cut across his chest, and grabbed her wrist. There was a crack and she cried out. His blades flashed in his vision, then she was silent. Her head rolled to the ground and he watched it come to a stop.

He removed the wristblades from her wrist and looked up at a movement. The small orange body of the young one was standing before him. It simply stared, and didn't move against him. He looked down at the body of its mother, then moved to retrieve his trophy. Grabbing it by the thick dreadlocked hair, he lifted it from the ground and turned his back to the young one.

A sudden spray of bright blood erupted in his vision and he roared, whipping around, his blades arching down. The young one fell backwards, scrambling back to its feet, hand covering its wounded face. He roared again and stepped forward, she took a few steps back but continued to face him, as passive as when he first saw it. He rattled, looking down at the _ba_ sticking straight out of his chest where his heart was. His hand gripped the shaft, looking back at her. He slowly sank to his knees, catching his body on one hand, staring at the young one eye level.

"Good," she began, having difficult with the words in his language, "good—death. Honor—master."

He wheezed, a sorry and plaintive noise for a _Paya_ to make, but then a rapid clicking noise cut through the hum. It turned into the sort of laughter that the humans made. The young one watched him, dropping her hand from her wounded face and knelt down to him in a warrior's pose. He continued to laugh, the sound overtaking all others as his vision fell to the ground and turned sideways. Slowly, he went silent, clicking still in amusement. This, too, eventually faded away, and in his vision, the bright light of his ship returning to the sky streaked behind the young face that looked down upon him.

His vision went black.


	12. Bpi-de Gka-de Hsou-depaya

Five minutes passed. Hours passed. The sun set. Darkness fell. The fires around had died down to just embers, the wet jungle unscathed. The cool air had settled down along the ground, but the heat was still there. The stars shone brightly, so clear, and over the clearing of the village the moon began to rise, coloring the earth white. A dark hand lifted towards it, reaching for the luminescent globe, fingers spreading to catch it. Dark eyes reflected its face looking at it, beyond it, to the stars.

Her hand lowered, laying down in her lap. She knelt on the dry grass ritual mat, laid down on the mud. She lowered her gaze back down to the earth, the same color as her skin, reaching towards it and running her hand against the moist earth. Bright red lights flickered in the corners of her vision, feeding off of the remains of her village.

Her fingers dug into the earth, making a tight fist. She opened her hand in front of her, looking at the small bit of compressed dirt, she spread her fingers and let it fall away, tilting her hand. She did not clean away the grains of black that stuck to her palm. This was her home, the place of her ancestors, the place where all hunts would come to an end with joyous celebrations and feasting, where an unbreakable bond had been formed between each member of the village, the earth, and the _Payas_. Nothing had shaken them from their roots, they stood strong against any tempest the world could throw at them.

And now, it was over.

Diwizama looked up to the trees as a figure, glowing white, stepped out of the dark jungle. He stood tall, shoulders square, head held high. Like any good hunter, he had returned to where he had last seen his prey. He paused where the moonlight met the shadow and watched her as she moved. Her hand reached behind her moving her tresses from the back of her neck, the ornaments chiming sweetly as the flesh was exposed. She put her hands flat against her legs, fingers pointing inwards, and she leaned forward, head bowed.

She did not look up as he approached, keeping her head down and her eyes closed. She heard his wristblades extend, but didn't flinch. Cold metal touched against her chin and she looked up, eyes opening. She looked up at the gleaming mask of the _Paya_. He tilted his head slightly and rattled in confusion, taking his blades away. She moved her hands, looking down just long enough to see what she was grabbing, and extended towards him a wrist device.

He clicked in a mixture of emotions, and she watched him look from one side to the others. All around were the black cases, open to reveal the many gifts of the _Payas_; the masks, weapons, armor and the trophies. What the invaders had not found, she had on grass mats like her own, to keep them away from the earth.

He looked back to her, her arms already shaking from holding the mere weight of the device.

"_Take… it…,_" her voice strained to be strong. He reached forward, and she withdrew it out of his reach, shaking her head. She extended her hands again tightening her jaw to prevent her lip from quivering. He stood for a moment looking down at her, then turning to look down the path, at the ruined village. He turned back to her, head tilting as his weight shifted.

"_Honor-able death,_" she lifted the device a little higher, brushing it just barely against the back of his fingers. His claws on the device, rattling in understanding. He flipped open the shield of the device, and the face of his mask glowed with a mixture of white and red. Small noises came from the device as he ran his claws against it. It then began to bark repetitively and he bent, setting the device on the ground in front of Diwizama.

She bowed again in the same submissive fashion, the back of her neck exposed, offering her head as his at any time he wished. He stepped back and retracted his blades and she straightened up, back straight, head held high. He moved towards the forest, moonlight gleaming off of his armored shoulders, casting dark shadows in the movements of his back. His ornaments gleamed gold. He stopped at the threshold to the dark, hesitating, the silence only broken by the warning of the device. His fingers moved then curled. His head turned sharply, his shoulder turning as he looked back at Diwizama, standing tall among the destruction of her home, no fear of her fate.

He gazed at her a long while and she at him, unsure of why he was hesitating. His muscles relaxed, and he looked to the jungle again then at her, rattling with conviction. Her breath caught in her throat.

"_Come,_" his voice reached her and her eyes widened. He turned towards the dark again and stepped towards it. She stood still in the light, watching the darkness consume him. She leaned forward, taking one step from her mat, then the other hit the ground hard. She ran after Torodondodondo who began to also run when she caught up to his side. Over the threes and through the bushes they ran, side by side. Flashes of white gleamed off of flesh where the moon flowed through the leaves.

Her heart sang with elation as they ran silently through the bush, pain was long forgotten, as she wove and danced across the jungle floor, her god mirroring her grace. Her eyes sparkled. She smiled.

The device went silent with the disappearance of the final symbol. It erupted into an orb of bright blue. Bolts of blue rippled through the trees and leaves as a wave went across the ground. The orb grew, engulfing the gifts of the _Payas_, consuming the homes of the _Kure Iradandaanya_, embracing the desperate embers and lighting them anew. The world around was silent as the gleaming light grew, taking miles of the Congo into its fold.

Then, it vanished, leaving blackened earth for new life to grow upon, to feed off of the end of one people, to allow for the earth to take over once more. And in the sky, a bright orange star streaked through the darkness, silently returning to the stars.

**Special Thanks**

Leah "Fire Redhead" Wood for the use of her character, and for inspiring me to take up writing again.

Farmer Jim and TheRYU for their reviews and support while this was being written.

The countless visitors to this small story of mine. I hope to see you all again in my future works.


	13. Vocabulary

**Zande**

Bakindo – Conqueror

Biraragowe – Dusk Fire

Danda Kerekuru – Hunting Star

Diwizama – Red Moon

Kamabagunda – Hundred Hearts

Kpakpusezama – Red Face

Kure Iradandaanya – Blood Hunter

Kure Tua – Blood Hunt

Mbia – Mountain

Ngumo – Zigzag

Nzereme – Shadow

Torodondodondo – Striped Ghost. This is Garv, Leah "Fire Redhead" Wood's character from her Hunter series.

**Yautja/Predator**

Ba – spear, combi-stick

Bpi-de gka-de hsou-depaya – 'finish the dance of the fallen gods.'

Dtai'kai'-dte sa-de nau'gkon dtain'aun bpi-de – 'the fight begun would not end until the end.'

Hma'mi-de – the end of a prayer like 'Payas leitjin-de;' possibly similar to 'amen.'

Jedhin jedhin – lit. individual individual; personal hand-to-hand or melee combat

N'yaka-de – master

Paya(s) – god(s)

Payas leitjin-de – 'remember the practice of the gods.'

Yin'tekai – honor


End file.
